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What it’s Like to Live with Someone Who can Eat Whatever he Wants
It’s challenging when you have a huge no-no list.
Breakfast is now on my no-no list, along with bread, sugar, potatoes, and any but the tiniest serving of grains. I need to lose twenty pounds and fasting for sixteen hours seems to tip the scale towards losing a daily half pound.
Here’s my routine: I get up around eight, drink black coffee and eat brunch at eleven or eleven thirty. Then I eat a salad with protein. It works.
The problem is my husband has to eat breakfast. He is fifty-three and still has the body of Michaelangelo’s David. He burns calories like a California wildfire. He becomes faint with hunger if he waits too long before eating. He is a natural athlete with a black belt in Karate.
I am seven years older than him, I burn calories like a three-hour-old barbecue, and I exercise only after giving myself a long pep-talk in which I remind myself how shameful it is not to take care of your body when you know better.
I am fine with my black-coffee breakfast until my husband gets up and makes himself a bagel with cream cheese and lox. I have to stay at least a room away from him if I am to hold onto my dietary resolve. By the time I start making my first meal, he will be ready for lunch.
