One of the things I love about the man I’m dating is that he looks great. I know that sounds shallow, and I’d like to think that I’m deep, like Mother Teresa or Bono. I prefer to see myself as someone who’d have fallen just as hard for a schlubby man who met all my other requirements (funny, cynical, smart, good taste in movies—and by “good taste,” I mean movies with zero car chases or any scenes with a space station involved).
Fortunately, I don’t have to mull that over, because did I mention the person I’m with looks great? The way he does it is he rides a bike all over yonder, like he’s Miss Gulch in her pre-Wicked Witch days, and he also goes to the gym and eats salad.
I mean, we’re talking salads. A LOT of salad. Sometimes he goes salad-bar hopping. And he eats it with NO DRESSING, y’all. If you ask me, the whole point of lettuce is it’s the thing holding up the blue cheese.
And that’s where we have an issue. We’ve just moved in together, and I am not what you’d call the healthiest eater. You know how you’re supposed to have a lot of color in your diet? I have always hoped the hot pink of Hostess Sno Balls counted as one of those colors. He can eat no fat, and I see no point in eating lean. Or clean. Or green, unless we’re counting guacamole.
You can imagine the War of the Roses Lime Juice we’ve got going on over in our fridge. Fish sticks glare icily at organic chicken breasts. Pringles stand proudly next to bags of black beans. On our stovetop there’s actual Stove Top being made right next to boring-ass brown rice.
“Have you consumed one nutrient today?” Mr. Gulch asks me as he peels an orange. He can be as smug as he wants, because it says right on my can of SpaghettiOs that it contains one whole serving of vegetables. And Frankenberry has the word “berry” right in the title, so.
The real question is—who’s going to influence whom? Will I become a carrot connoisseur, or will he soon covet my Cocoa Krispies? Yes, of course they still make those. Yes, of course they’re still delicious. Stop being so mature.
We’re into month four of our cohabitation, and I’ve lost 10 pounds so far without trying. I attribute it to being with someone who never, ever says yes to dinner at Steak and Shake. Also, it turns out, asparagus is delicious!
But I’m not the only one changing. The other night? I noticed the last of my chocolate cookies went missing right after a certain someone got back from his bike ride. So the jury’s still out. I’ll get back to you on it in a few months. In the meantime, you gonna eat those pork rinds?