I'm not going to go into the gorey details, but let's just say I've heard a few people say to me at the end of whiney conversations over the last couple of weeks, "Well it's ok, MOST newlyweds put on a few pounds! It's very normal!" But who cares! That doesn't make weight gain any cooler. Starting tomorrow, and Jeff and I are in complete fervent agreement on the delicate matter, treat consumption is verboten from Monday to Saturday night at 11:59 pm. I'm thinking it wouldn't be a bad idea to buy a 2,000 lb. safe for the presently possessed treats, have a trusted, resolute neighbor set the code, and make them promise to not let us into the stash, no matter how we begged, until Sunday morning. Because you see, we are having our First Easter of Love (squeal and shriek!), and so we could not NOT give each other these treasures this morning,
plus my one true love made a tart from Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
I don't think the safe thing is going to happen, so unfortunately the leftovers will call to us from the very openable cabinets all week long.
This whole affair did cause me to remember a book read to my classmates and I in 1st grade class. It was about a man who buys piles of his favorite treat to ration throughout the year but finds his will-power failing him. He's blowin through it like water. He asks a trusted friend to hide them about her house and dole them out at previously arranged dates and times. He missed the whole "Mind Over Matter" thing and in the end rips apart his unyielding friend's house in search for the treats! I sat there in my keds and Espirit shorts and splatter paint t-shirt, shrugged and said to myself, "I'm not above that!"
So now that you're at the end here, yes, this really is the purpose of this post: to vocalize to the internets and beyond that tomorrow I'm laying the health nut smack down in hopes that Jeff and I get to live a long life together instead of dying of dual blow out sugar comas sometime in the next 3 to 6 months.
And the other purpose of this post is, in case you didn't catch on to that, I am NOT inflicted with BIEBER FEVER, the only pre-teen star I ever loved was Kevin Arnold/Fred Savage. Jeff got me, got me good. He even called him a "studly muffin-man" or something. Nice.