I don’t mind that my wife decided to go vegetarian. She’s a free-thinking independent woman who’s more than capable of charting her own path.
Why I can’t chart mine is the issue.
I hate it when she decides to use that expression. It’s become some sort of inviolate mantra, a petition I can’t breach.
It’s an approach she’s employed successfully for as long as I can remember: “If you loved me,” she says, “you’d do the dishes, vacuum the house, wash the windows, ask Aunt Anna to stay.” Who can rebuff such an argument?
So now, proving my love means having a carrot instead of a cheeseburger. It was so much easier when all I had to do was bring flowers.
She doesn’t believe a carnivore and a vegetarian can coexist, but I argue that people have found happiness in mixed marriages. “We don’t necessarily have to adopt each other’s interests to be compatible,” I argue. “What would you say if I wanted to rob a bank and asked you to drive the getaway car?”
“If you loved me,” she replied, “you’d never put me in that position.”
Actually, it’s worse than being vegetarians. We’re vegans!
It means I can’t sprinkle cheese on my salad, or add a hard-boiled egg. I can’t even use my favorite salad dressing; honey-mustard, because honey is produced by — pardon the expression — an animal.
She knows how much I’ve been struggling with this diet, but she tries to encourage me by repeatedly telling me how healthy it is, that it’s a great way to lose weight, and best of all, she says, “you’re going to live longer.”
“I’m not sure I want to,” I reply.
But then I saw that story in Tuesday’s Union-Tribune. The headline read: “Weight loss can change couples — and that’s for better or worse.”
The story talks about the health benefits of weight reduction, but also points out the risks. According to a JAMA study, the article explains, “Weight loss was associated with increased incidence of divorce and separation.”
In other words, after looking trimmer, leaner and healthier people might find they’re attracting a romantic partner and thus put their marriage in jeopardy.
I pointed out the study to my wife and explained to her that the last thing I’d want to do is endanger our marriage, and if I looked any better than I do now, other women might become attracted to me, and I certainly wouldn’t want to find myself grappling with the prospect of a bunch of ladies fighting over me.
“I’ll take my chances,” she replied.
So that’s when I decided to pull out all the stops and resort to employing her own compelling refrain if ever I hoped to rid myself of this dread.
So I said to her, “Honey, if you loved me, you’d let me get out of this diet.”
“Please don’t hand me that baloney,” she replied.
Contact humor columnist Irv Erdos at IrvErdos@aol.com.
This content was originally published here.
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