The Post That Will P*** Everyone Off

Why do I think this post will irk you?  Read on, dear readers, read on!  Americans have been deemed fat and this may very well be a mere generalization of her inhabitants due to fact of there being a McDonald's parked on every corner.

Of course one could also assume that all French people are cowards, all Japanese are smart, that all Russians are tough as nails, that all Irish are drunks and American-Irish are fat drunks.  The latter might actually have some truth in it.

We did have a bit of a scare with Shawn and his over the top blood pressure.  He admitted that he hadn't been taking care of himself in general.  Upon weighing himself, he announced that he had indeed lost weight.  Of course working in the heat, he and I both tend to lose five pounds each summer, only to regain it in the winter.  This is how nature protects us from the bitter cold of Central Texas.  Har, har.

Standing at 6'5", Shawn now weighs in at 140 pounds.  In kilograms, that would be.....oh, who the ---- cares?!  It would be easier for the rest of the world to convert to our obscene measurement system than for me alone to convert to metric.

As I was saying, Shawn has always been thin, and once he even tried the McDonald's Everyday Diet.  It worked for that slob in the documentary who ate it three meals per day for thirty days.  Call me Unamerican, but that sounds like my personal hell.  So every day for lunch, instead of eating the sandwich or Hot Pocket I had packed for Shawn, he ate at McDonald's for nearly a month and didn't gain an ounce.  (I'd be willing to bet that his arteries were screaming in agnoy, though)

We should all be so burdened, I'm sure.  I've been very slowly incorporating healthy foods onto Shawn's plate.  Once in a while, I am able to see him spoon in one--one single--bite of brown rice.  Well, it's a start.  I'm not expecting him eat plain old brown rice.  I season, season, season, then I over season since he smokes and his taste buds are shot to hell.  That bite of brown rice is BURSTING with flavor, I assure you.  But it's not french fries.

Now, dear friends, allow me to tell you the tale of the french fry.  When we first moved in together, our first appliance bought was a small deep fat fryer.  I thought this was a ludicrous purchase as there was never such a thing in my home growing up.  In fact, I didn't even realize such a thing existed!  Shawn thought I was half retarded.  I've always been the cook of the house.  Occasionally, it bothers me that I cannot be cooked for, that I must cook each and every meal.  This is one of those things that you either deal with and accept, or just grumble about because it ain't gonna change no matter what you do.

It's like the dishes.  He's done the dishes THREE times in our thirteen years of togetherness.  Why only three?  Because a) he just won't do it, and b) when he does do it, the dishes are still dirty and must be rewashed anyway.  It's like dealing with a smart child who knows if they do it wrong, eventually you, the parent, will do it for them because it is just easier.

But I digress.  Cooking is similar in this way except instead of having to merely rewash the dishes, there are extra dishes (as in fifteen spoons for use in one pot) and an ENTIRE kitchen to clean.  It should go without saying at this point that even though I do ALL the cooking, I also do ALL the dishes and ALL the counter cleaning, oven wiping, and so forth.  Suffice it to say, the kitchen is MINE and MINE ALONE.  If I should happen to fall ill, there is usually a frozen pizza from 2004 in the freezer.

Shawn absolutely hates veggies, and I did too for a long while.  Often, about five times a week, I made french fries as a side with supper.  They're cheap, quick and easy and Shawn doesn't really like anything else so he was happy with that.  In my mid-twenties I got sick over the smell of fries and even now, I rarely eat them.  Over the last two years, I have been slowly doing away with french fries.  I try really, really hard not to make them more than twice a week.  With Shawn in night school, it's throw some supper down his throat--he just got off work and he's hopping into the car for school--hurry!  What's quick and easy?

I can actually list what sides Shawn likes:  FRENCH FRIES FOREVER!  Corn on the cob, mac & cheese, Mexican rice (fried, and only made by certain area taco shacks) and....I think that's about it.  Once I set out a bag of potato chips with hamburgers and he griped about it.  Sigh.

How can any other American eat this way?  I can't explain it!!  You can't explain it!!  Won't someone please explain it??  Weight gain issues aside, Shawn should have had a heart attack by now from the amount of ingested fat and oils!  It's uncanny!

I told Shawn he needed AT LEAST 2,000 calories per day.  I read an article that same afternoon.  In it, a doctor said that if you are moderately active to multiply your weight by 13.  If you wish to maintain that weight, eat that number in calories per day.  To lose or gain, simply add or subtract a few hundred calories.  140 times 13 equals 1820.  I told Shawn that he should eat 2500 calories per day.

I weigh 112.  Multiplied by 13 is 1456.  I probably consume 2500 calories per day.  No kidding.

The next day I kept tabs on what Shawn ate during the day.  It was a Monday and I saw half his sandwich left behind in the fridge.  He said he had a McDonald's (shocker, there) sausage biscuit for breakfast.  He ate half a bowl of spaghetti and one piece of whole grain bread smeared with margarine.  I guessed his daily intake around 1,000 calories and nagged him.  "Oh yeah?  Watch this!" he declared as he marched into the kitchen with his chest puffed outwardly.

He opened the newly acquired pint of chocolate ice cream and whole milk.  He scooped out 1/4 a cup (who does that, honestly?!) and poured in about 1/2 cup of milk.  "How much is that?" Shawn asked.
"That's about 150 calories," I stated.
"There's no way I can eat 2500 calories!"
"Do you understand how stupid this is?  You're doing it backwards!" I said.  "Most people are counting up so they have a stopping point--that's when they say they cannot and will not eat any more today.  Most people don't have a problem with not eating enough, it's eating too much!  What is wrong with you?!"

It doesn't seem fair.  I struggle every day not to overeat and am not successful most days.  He's trying to eat more and just cannot do it.  The poor thing.  Oh, boo-hoo.  Do you have any idea what I or most people would give to have his problem?!  I should be the one to be too thin and he should have the pudge around his middle; this is so friggin' wrong!  I fight and argue with myself all day, everyday and here he is trying to eat more.

I could write literally, pages on how unfair and cruel the universe is regarding this matter but i believe I've made my point.  Speaking to Patti at work, she suggested sprinkling a protein powder in Shawn's meals.  "He'd never even notice," she said.
"Yes, but I've have to be VERY careful not to get the bowls mixed up.  Otherwise, I'd gain 200 pounds in a single month!" I laughed.

I'm in the process of research.  I know what foods are healthy, which are filling, and which are best to eat if you are trying to lose weight.  I know which foods are off limits from our house and which I can safely chow down on (broccoli, anyone?) without feeling guilty.  This is a new frontier.  This is uncharted territory for me.  I've no idea what to make for dinner to make Shawn safely gain weight.  If the french fries didn't do it, a bowl of brown rice sure as hell ain't gonna cut it!

I want to be really clear about one thing.  It is not Shawn's body I am concerned with.  If I wanted a muscle head, I would have dated, lived with, married, signed a mortgage with a muscle head.  Looks, body, all that stuff--none of it ever really mattered to me.  I am concerned about Shawn's health.  I am concerned that his body is starving and maybe that is contributing to his level of absurd crankiness each day.  Seriously, he's got a major case of PMS.  Like, all the time.

Of course when MOST people get stressed, MOST people participate in stress eating.  If you are living in an area of the world with an abundance of food, this is most likely true.  Shawn, on the other hand, eats less when he is stressed out.  He doesn't feel like eating much in the same way most of us don't feel like eating straight after a funeral.  Again, we should all be so lucky to have this problem.

He doesn't eat because he is bored, because there is plenty, because he depressed, stressed, or passing time during the commercials.  He eats till he's full and leaves what is left--EVEN if is only one bite.
"I'm full!"
"It's ONE bite, just eat it!" I prod.
"But I'm full!"
"So what am I supposed to do with it?  Wrap it up in a tupperware for ONE bite?  Of course I can't throw it away so I'm gonna eat it," I argue.
"So eat it," he answers.
"I don't want to eat it!  I want you to eat it so I won't eat it!"

And so it goes.

Add this to my list of New Problems.  I have to figure out how to lose weight while cooking for Shawn so he will gain weight.  Sigh.  I wonder how protein powder tastes in meatloaf?

That's exactly what'll be going through my head as I nibble fiber-laden Triscuit crackers.  Life is grand, ain't it?