I was reading this blog post regarding experiments in calorie reduction, as linked from this blog post about forcing Guantanamo detainess to diet as torture (I’d really recommend reading both of those posts), and it’s similar to studies I’ve read about before regarding weight loss and why it’s regained and no one can stick to a diet, but I thought the parts about how it affects people mentally were particularly interesting and enlightening.
The thought of dieting circles my head occasionally because there is no real estate on Mars for me to set up my hermit shanty yet and I see diet commercials every five seconds when I watch TV. I assuage this desire by reminding myself that hey, I’m getting degrees right now, I need my mind to be sharp so I can study and learn! I guess I never really had a scientific reason this other than when I’m hungry I’m thinking about foods rather than what hearsay exception is implicated when someone shouts “Sweet Baby Jesus on a cracker he shot me!” seconds before death, but I guess when I’m right, I’m right.
I was thinking the other day about how baffling it is that the same person who spews the “calories in calories out” mantra to justify railing against people for being overweight has no problem believing there are people who can eat as much as they want and never get fat. Hey, they have high metabolisms! But when I tell people my husband and I eat the same shit every day and he weighs 100 pounds more than me, I am assured he must be eating something else SOMEWHERE you know. At work or something. Because if we ate the same shit we’d definitely have the same body types.
I’ve come to the conclusion that people abandon all logic in order to cling to their prejudices a long time ago, but it just wears me down so much. I try to tell as many people as I can I probably eat like 2500 calories a day or more, which would be “overeating” except that eating like a normal person is only overeating when you’re fat.
The fact that I should supposedly be able to happily live on roughly half the calories I do is where the diet thoughts come in. Geez I bet if I went on a diet I’d be like, Kiera Knightley, except that’s just a product of memory loss since I’ve dieted while running a few miles a week and doing yoga and I only lost ten pounds and was constantly sick and felt like shit on a stick.
So, I was also reading this blog post the other day, on Pandagon, which is a blog I really like and read all the time. I don’t really care to comment on the contents of the article so much, but I find it interesting that people didn’t consider comments about “idiots” purchasing diet cokes with fatty food to be fat shaming. Who are those idiots likely to be? I guarantee if I walked into a McDonalds and ordered 5 cheeseburgers and a large fry and a diet coke people wouldn’t think anything of it, but WOULD if a fat person walked in. If I did that it would probably accurately reflect what I was doing–having a once in a while treat, and having my brain replaced by someone who can tolerate artificial sweeteners and McDonalds food. But if a fat person does it, it’s probably a habit, right?
What struck me the most though was the author of the piece, Amanda Marcotte (and again, I really like her stuff a lot this is just thinking about what she said not trying to slam her or something) responding to a comment someone made about high metabolism people being able to eat what they want (which I can’t find again, I have to get ready to leave in a minute so I’m not reading them again), and saying well she wishes she had that metabolism, but since she doesn’t, she has to watch it.
I generally consider myself to have a good metabolism and I usually think it’d be unfair of me to sit there and chomp down a hamburger and think, well, tough luck person with a propensity for weight gain, you better have a heap o’ carrots. Mmmm burger omnomnom. Really though that’s probably an exaggeration of her point but that IS how a lot of people think about it. Oh I can go into McDonalds and have 12 chicken nuggets and a bucket of fries once in a while, but if I ever see someone fat in there, holy hell that person is shameful. I can engage in this activity, but when that person does it, it’s wrong. I can sit in my ivory tower and shake my head and make disapproving ingressive sounds with my tongue when I see someone else doing the exact same thing I’m doing because wow if *I* didn’t have a good metabolism I’d have the willpower to not see food as something I should enjoy, right?
On one hand it seems prudent to say “but of course, eating healthy is always good.” Well, yeah, eat your veggies. Blah blah blah. I also refuse to believe that eating Thanksgiving dinner and the occasional giant fucking chili cheese fry will shave ten years off of one’s life. I do think it would be great for the U.S. and the world if people of all incomes had access to healthy, hearty home-cooked food and weren’t wage slaves without the time to prepare it. I don’t think you can separate cultural reality of no money and time for organic greens with a grilled rosemary salmon every night from this food morality so it’s a moot point to pontificate on what people OUGHT to be eating when the ability to eat the oughtfoods is just not there. I also refuse to believe it’s any of my goddamned business what someone else chooses to ingest, all things being equal.
Don’t believe for a goddamn second all the studies which comprise our knowledge of what is good now will not be seen as outdated, strange and quaint as the practice of using leeches in medicine appears to us today. I guarantee people thought they were the height of modernity back then and looked upon the past as a swirling cauldron of ignorance and idiocy.
I guess this rant is all over the place and incoherent, but, tl;dr version, I’m fucking sick and tired of people holding others to standards they could never ever ever fucking ever adhere to themselves. I’m also sick of people not engaging their neurons and firing one fucking synapse when thinking about this shit. The end.
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I have a problem, that when I become depressed, I completely lose my appetite and don’t want to eat.
Yes, that’s a problem.
Nothing bugs me more than people looking forward to being sick or depressed so they will lose weight. “Someone I love died, but I lost ten pounds so I feel great!” sounds so vile and insipid to me my brain cannot even comprehend someone not taking that as a sarcastic comment, and a poor one at that.
I’m the kind of person with diarrhea of the mouth (and I’ve been sick the past few days with a sore throat, when I told my husband that’s my least favorite way to be sick, he said “because you can’t talk as much anymore?” I didn’t know whether to be insulted by that), and generally when I have a problem or feel a certain way I’m liable to tell people about it. Hence, “man I haven’t felt like eating in forever.”
This often, though, elicits these sorts of reactions:
From my husband: “you’d better eat before your blood sugar crashes and you bite my head off”
Some people: “wow I wish that’s what happened to me when I got depressed, I usually eat more!”
Some people think I’m bragging or something and get annoyed?
I don’t know. I just wish I could say that as “hey man this sucks, I don’t want to feel opposed to providing my body with the fuel it needs to operate” without eliciting negative responses. I don’t want it to have all these touchy connotations that “oh I have the flu and I’ve been shitting up a storm” does not have.
I’m not saying people are stupid for having those responses because I think we’re culturally conditioned to feel that way, but I wish the very act of eating or not eating didn’t have so much baggage attached to it. It’s annoying, but understandable. I wish it was treated like other necessary human bodily functions–similarly to if I said “wow I haven’t been able to sleep for days” or “I haven’t been able to breathe for days,” (although I suspect the latter would mean I was a zombie if I were writing about it) and I wouldn’t be seen as having an ulterior motive aside from good old fashioned pissing and moaning for having said it.
About to go force myself to eat lunch, because I’ve come to terms with the fact that food is necessary for my continued survival, news at 11.
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This article’s third part discusses women in the overweight range having a lower mortality rate, but prefaces it with “it’s not a license to pig out. . .”
Hello, article, who died and made you the boss of my food intake? I will totally inhale a skillet of chorizo and eggs whenever I damn well please and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Anyway, this article isn’t saying anything I haven’t read in about a hundred thousand other articles but everyone ignores because they hate the idea of women who look like they have room for internal organs. This probably applies to men too, I’m not sure why the study focused on women. I just get tired of how any article about how not wearing size zero pants actually increases longevity in old age is always prefaced with “this doesn’t mean you get to enjoy eating! No sir!” Bleh.
Why people just take it for granted that the BMI index, based on 18 year old white bodies, is our lord and savior, I will never fucking understand. Whatever happened to using a goddamned shred of logic? I swear when I was younger people DID think things like “oh so and so is just naturally a bigger person,” but now all of the sudden everyone can and should be Daisy Duke Jessica Simpson if we just tried hard enough–oh yeah and no one has to try harder than anyone else. I swear people just etch whatever they read in tabloids into their lonely two neurons rattling around in their skulls and call it a day. Pfffft.
I say we have a logic revolution. I don’t give a fuck what “science” tells me. If I feel healthier when I’m NOT working out 2 hours a day 5 days a week, and when I ingest a certain amount of calories, I’m fucking healthier. I’m not healthier when I’m sick and have no energy all the goddamned time but “look” better because my ribs stick out of my chest and show through my back.
Although the aforementioned is actually what science suggests if you look behind the media spin on various studies which they pick and choose to fit their agenda.
I think I really need to make myself a tin-foil hat.
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Seriously. . .decaffinated coffee. Fuck it.
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I was in a place for the past few days where I had no internet access–and what I instead had access to was lots and lots of TV.
First off–I realized why I don’t watch anything on TV that exists outside of Cartoon Network, the Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, or the National Geographic channel. Holy shit situational comedies are stupid. They’re totally lost on me because every time a conflict arises because the husband lies to his wife about something and the ensuing cover up is supposed to be oh-so-hilarious I’m sitting there like, “sweet baby jesus on a flaming roller coaster, do people actually do this? Is she going to turn into a giant spider and fill her husband with venom and suck out his juices if he tells her he really can’t afford <insert stupid shit here>?”
Oh oh oh–and every single one has an episode where a relative (be it male or female I’ve seen both) goes out with the kid of the main character while babysitting and finds someone who’s like “zomg I love ur kid let’s go on a date,” and then said relative has to pretend that kid is his or hers until the jig is up. Hilarity ensues? No. JUST FUCKING STOP IT oh fucking god come up with some new ideas for a chaaaaaaaaaange! Oh other plots every show has–kid has the I.Q. of a turnip and innocently destroys a priceless sports artifact of the father’s and the father has to learn I guess that his moron of a kid is more important than mere priceless stuff.
You know I read somewhere once that it’s hard for women to get into sitcom writing because apparently producers think they aren’t funny? I have a feeling they don’t hire men either–they just have Mad Lib machines that recycle the same 10 plots with the names of different characters inserted where applicable.
Wow that was totally not what I was going to make this blog about.
Anyway, inserted in the commercial breaks of these shows is an incessant barrage of advertisements for dieting shit. A rubber ball that will give you a rock hard six pack. Exercise videos that will make it so your husband can’t keep his hands off of you. Weight watchers which lets you ACTUALLY EAT FOOD YOU LIKE in tiny indiscernible quantities. Nutrisystem, where they mail you a bunch of food you will ACTUALLY LIKE in tiny indiscernible quantities and if you keep eating it you will somehow sprout rock hard six pack abs, and they throw in a free inter-dimensional space pocket to put your internal organs in so you can be truly two dimensionally thin.
Anyone who doesn’t think the “obesity epidemic” obsession is a product of how lucrative it is to make everyone in America hate his or her body is either brainwashed or living in a monestary with no TV. Not to mention these diet commercials were interspersed with commercials about weight loss TV shows and new and novel cooking methods which drain every ounce of flavor fat from your food.
I just got sick of SEEING these commercials. I don’t watch a lot of TV usually, is this really how all TV is or is it just that people who dieting companies target watch a lot of situational comedies?
Am I the only person on earth who thinks six pack abs look weird rather than attractive?
What made me really annoyed wasn’t the message of “hey lose weight gain muscle get fit,” it was little things that were said, like, “I look thinner in the midsection now–and that’s something EVERY woman wants!” I suppose since most women are conditioned to hate their bodies that might be pretty much true, but I just hate anything that feeds into this idea that women are the borg and have a hive mind and all think the same things and want the same things. I’d really prefer it if women were actually considered the borg and not a bunch of obnoxiously chatty shopping addicted bees. I’ll take a race of aliens that will make you shit your pants in fear before they assimilate your mind and turn you into a bad ass robot over the insipid stereotypes used to belittle women all of the time any day of the week.
The whole thing about the new rock hard abs leading to one woman’s husband not being able to keep his hands off of her squicked me out too. I don’t know if I’m reading too much into it, but that just seems to be saying “hey, if your husband doesn’t want to incessantly fuck your brains out right now, it probably means he thinks you’re FAT!” Ugh. I guess I can’t expect people trying to make money at all costs to be classy.
I’m pretty sure if there were commercials for any given object as often and numerous as these the title of this blog post would be changed accordingly. To be fair I’d rather shave my legs with a lawnmower than eat a taco bell taco with the bacon and cheese wrapped around it in a second tortilla not only because that sounds disgusting, but because if I see another Taco Bell commercial I’m going to spontaneously combust. I’d also die happy if I never had to watch a situational comedy ever again.
ACCORDING TO JIM IS A FUCKING AWFUL SHOW.
There. I said it.
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I realized tonight that I don’t really know what the fuck the word “gourmet” means.
My husband and I were grocery shopping, and at the conclusion of our food-purchasing sojourn we got some ice for like a buck from the front of the store. Much to our surprise, this ice is “gourmet” ice. It says so on the front of the bag. Gourmet. It must be extra special awesome ice or something?
My husband often comments that the word gourmet is used on pretty much everything from canned spaghetti to fast food rat on a stick. The word has really lost all meaning, I guess. I thought it meant something like, fancy sort of food, but I just figured these places were hyping up their food with an adjective that made it seem more fancy than it actually was. Until tonight–when I got the gourmet bag of ice.
That takes the fucking cake.
I brought my husband a glass of water earlier right before he was about to go to sleep and asked, “do you want some gourmet ice in your water?”
“I’d like some gourmet ice in my gourmet water!” He replied.
I brought back the water and said, “here’s your gourmet ice in your gourmet water in your gourmet glass! Now bend over for some gourmet buttsex.”
He thought “gourmet buttsex” sounded like something you’d find on a picture of a menu on engrish.com.
So, in my bewilderment over gourmet frozen water, I went to the illustrious dictionary.com to figure out what on earth it means when something is described as “gourmet.”
of or characteristic of a gourmet, esp. in involving or purporting to involve high-quality or exotic ingredients and skilled preparation
I wonder what high-quality and exotic water was used in that one dollar bag of ice. I don’t really know how much skill it takes to put water in the freezer and let the cold air cause it to become a solid. I should tell my mom all those times she froze kool aid in an ice tray with bear-shaped liquid-holdy-holes she was making an extremely gourmet dish–I mean, if regular old ice is gourmet, surely bear-shaped ice that tastes like artificial cherry goodness is extremely gourmet.
Ok the word gourmet just looks friggin’ weird to me now.
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Last night my husband was flabbergasted because we went out to eat and the women across from us merely nibbled at their food, not eating almost any of it. He said, “I guess they were trying to impress the one dude they were with?”
I didn’t notice this. I never notice what other people are doing. I like to mind my own business and I wish other people would mind theirs. My husband, though, is a good example of how the stereotypes that women are nosy and gossipy and women are not are just that–stereotypes.
And I replied with knowledge I had learned in law school. I prefaced what I had to say with “look, I’m saying this with NO SARCASM AT ALL. It sounds sarcastic, but it’s not.” I often say things that are sarcastic. And I continued with “women are just not supposed to let guys know that they eat. They’re probably going to go home and make microwave burritos, but most women just won’t eat in front of guys.” Ok, I guess what I said was still a little bit sarcastic.
How did I come across this information? Well, sit on my knee and I’ll tell you a story.
I guess I was always a very sheltered person–I didn’t realize just how many social norms I didn’t adhere to until I started going to law school and had it pointed out to me that I don’t adhere to them. I’m also oblivious to everything that’s around me and I feel no need to do what everyone else is doing if whatever they are doing is adverse to what I want.
I went to some social function with a bunch of law students at a restaurant that was more pricey than anniversary dinner level pricey with my husband. Apparently law students think they are making lawyer money already. Anyway, I paid a lot for what I ordered, and by gum, I was going to eat all of it it cost a fucking arm and a leg! It was also tasty and I had worked up an appetite knowing I was going out for an expensive dinner. Anyway, there I was, shoveling food into my mouth in a way which allowed for maximum speed yet sufficient time to grace my taste buds, when some of the dudes I was conversing with began commenting that I ate as much as they did. My head poked out from the billowy clouds of obliviousness which perpetually surround it, and I did notice I was pretty much the only one of the female persuasion not leaving half of my meal on the plate in a display of feminine restraint. This is not something I feel self conscious about, but I resent the attempts of others to make me self-conscious about it. That night, anyway, I was like, law school dudes. Whatever. Those women are going to scarf down a sandwich as soon as they get home and I didn’t waste my $50.
But, the same sort of thing happened again as I did decide during my education as a law student to get a law job to try my hand at the legal field. For some reason lawyers and law students have this obnoxious need to eat with each other all of the time. I mean it wouldn’t be obnoxious if the real goal was to eat and not to size each other up like a pack of fucking dogs, but as it is, it’s obnoxious.
At one lunch meeting with my mentor I was at I ordered something that, you know, wasn’t a salad with lemon juice. When it arrived, I got a “wow that is a lot of food” comment. It wasn’t more pricey than what he ordered–I always try to pay even though I know that’s not going to happen, but I don’t exactly order lobster anywhere. At that point I just thought, yeah this restaurant always has big portions whenever I go with other people we always make comments about how you leave the place stuffed. But then later, when I, you know, actually bothered eating what I had ordered, I got the big old “wow! How do you eat so much and stay so thin?”
High metabolism, I guess?
This has happened to me on one other occasion. I guess I should take the hint to leave half my plate if I’m eating in front of a guy I don’t know? Fuck it.
I don’t know why but these kinds of comments always make me feel VERY uncomfortable. I don’t like them, I don’t like people commenting on my eating habits, and I especially don’t like people commenting about my weight, even if it’s a compliment. I mean I guess it’s supposed to be a compliment? I told my husband about how annoyed it makes me and he said it’s because it’s a backhanded compliment. I guess it is, I always feel like it’s a subtle way of telling me I eat too much. Even if it’s not I just don’t see why it’s something that merits a comment. Isn’t this, you know, rude? I mean, it’s not rude to presuppose that I’m not supposed to eat much?
In all the years I’ve been with my husband the only comment I get from him about my eating is informing me when my face is covered in BBQ sauce or I have something stuck between my teeth. Maybe that’s why I learned so late in life that I’m not supposed to pretend like I partake in this ritual called eating in front of other people who might get the vapors over it. I’m just sheltered, I guess.
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Ok, I didn’t used to be the kind of coffee addict that couldn’t get through mornings without it–although now I undoubtedly am. I think it’s stranger, though, that if there is a pot of coffee somewhere, or I’m in a restaurant, I will seriously sit there and drink 10 cups of coffee until I’m shaky and jittery and on the cusp of spontaneous combustion. I’ll keep asking for more and more until I leave or it’s all gone, not caring that all of my neurons are spontaneously firing and I’m about to start doing cartwheels all the way to Canada. I actually have to make sure I limit my coffee intake before I do anything that requires reading or my mind kinda goes “WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS OMG WHAT DOES THIS SAY HOLY CRAP THE LETTERS WORDS WORDS” and I can’t focus on anything. I am nooot one of those people who can drink coffee all day and night and feel nothing from it. It makes me totally wired.
I know someone can be an alcoholic even if he or she only drinks once a year if he or she can’t stop drinking more and more on that occassion. That’s exactly how I am with coffee. Completely unable to keep myself from becoming Tweak from South Park if I have unlimited access to the stuff. I was like this even when I only drank coffee once a week–usually on Saturday morning. My husband will drink about two cups and I’ll polish off the rest of the pot. It just ain’t right.
Ok wow this was pointless. Oh well.
cooooofffffeeeeeeeeeee
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Someone told me about Yelp a few months back, and it sounded like something I’d totally dig. I love review sites. I’m addicted to citysearch and tripadvisor. Yelp just had SO MANY restaurants and reviews–many more than on the aforementioned sites, I thought I’d found my mecca of advice on what new places to try. I thought that it would be totally amazing and I would be able to figure out if the latest pizza delivery place putting a sign on my door would bring a delicious pie, or cardboard with sauce.
So I started looking up some stuff I’d wanted to try and. . .lo and behold, apparently every dining establishment in my area just SUCKS GONADS and should burn in a fire. Out of curiosity, I looked up my favorite spots to eat, and lo and behold, the yelp reviewers also thought these places were terrible, disgusting, had terrible service, and pretty much should burn in a fire as well. Places I typically think are filled with delicious cuisine that I could eat every day if given the chance.
Almost every fucking review of these places was some dumb fucker from out of town saying things like, “oh this place cannot even COMPARE to the restaurants in NEW YORK or CHICAGO.” “OMG the places where I eat at home are SO MUCH BETTER!” My favorites are like, “this cheap take-out Chinese food fails. I have eaten food in Hong Kong and this is nothing like the food there. If a cheap take-out place cannot perfectly mimic the food I got while traveling through a village in Beijing where I had food served to me by someone who has had traditional Chinese food recipes passed down to him through 2000 generations, it deserves a rating of one star.” Or “I’ve been to Mexico and everyone who gives this food a good review has obviously never had traditional Mexican food because this place is so Americanized.” As if food cannot be tasty if it doesn’t perfectly replicate that which you would get in the native country the food supposedly came from. I’ve been to Mexico several times before and I STILL LIKE TEX MEX. Ok? The place in question didn’t even pretend to be authentic! Other good reviews include ones that are like “I went here after hearing how popular this place was expecting it to be good, and it just failed in every way. I have such a developed palate that nothing popular could possibly satiate me. If more than two people on earth think a place is good, it is obviously because they are too stupid to realize what garbage they have ingested.”
Good gravy! These people’s noses are so far in the air they’ve had to adapt to the harsh atmospheric conditions of the stratosphere. If they were any more full of themselves they’d be breathing pure ozone and their nose cartilage would burn up. I was expressing my disdain over this site to my husband and he went on a tirade about how New Yorkers should shut the fuck up because they live in a piss hole that smells like pee. I usually find his east-coast phobia to be too harsh, but this time I indulged myself in evil laughter.
One dingleberry was dismissive–one star dismissive–of a place with unique pizzas because “hummus on a pizza is not a pizza.” Who died and made this asshat the Czar of pizza? I’m sure people in Italy think whatever type of pie this person believes to constitute pizza is fraudulent. If I put shit and blood clots on a crust I can call it a pizza if I fucking want to (although that certainly WOULD be one-star worthy). This place can put hummus on a pizza and call it a pizza if it fucking wants to.
Also–yelp reviewers believe that if an eating establishment just HAPPENS to not just be the only on the whole planet, it is now a CHAIN and automatically sucks even if the food gives you an orgasm while you’re eating it. A chain cannot POSSIBLY be good. The only places on the whole earth worth eating at would never dare expand after realizing success. Ever. EVER.
I will never take the advice of the thunderfucks on yelp when deciding where to eat.
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I see it in commercials, comic strips, people’s discourse, you name it. Men who are overweight and probably told by their doctors they need to change their eating habits, so their wives “put them on a diet,” and they relish in enjoying food that doesn’t taste like hairy ass when the battle axe isn’t around. (I never see this happen the other way around, although I suppose it could).
I want to smack the shit out of any idiot who thinks this is funny, or how a relationship should work.
I think eating healthy is important–not weight loss–but what kind of bullshit is that to act like your WIFE is the reason you can’t just eat whatever you want when your health is suffering? When you have high cholesterol? When you have diabetes? Blame your genes, blame your doctor for using a weight-loss band-aid on everything, blame your sky daddy, blame anyone, but it’s not the fault of your SPOUSE! This subject came up because of a comic I just read where a woman caught her husband “cheating. . .” on his DIET, but it’s also a sore spot to me because my dad gets annoyed with his wife for keeping him from gorging himself on sugar when he’s diabetic.
If I was my dad’s wife I’d say, go ahead you catfucker, go fucking kill yourself, then, see if I care. Here I am not wanting you to die and all, and you’re getting mad at me? Go die if you want to, then. I’m not your damn mother, take some personal responsibility. It’s not my job to control your friggin’ food intake and keep you from going into a diabetic coma. You’re an adult.
This would never happen in my relationship, by the way, because oddly enough, my husband and I treat each other like adults and don’t try to control each other. Whatever he wants to eat is his freakin’ business. If he ever became diabetic or something I’d prefer that he would control it so he wouldn’t, you know, die, but there’s no way on earth I’d become his surrogate mom and smack his hand as it reaches into the cookie jar. No way would I open myself up to becoming the object of scorn when the real culprit is pancreatic malfunction.
Really, if someone has some kind of medical illness where not cutting out certain foods might, I dunno, result in DEATH, I’d think one or two options should be available if said person’s spouse was AFRAID OF HIS OR HER BELOVED DYING and tried to prevent such catastrophe.
Option 1: Be an adult and explain to your spouse that you don’t appreciate the nagging. Maybe with an, ok. I understand that you love me and don’t want me to die. But I just don’t want to diet, I’m an adult and I can make this choice. This is my choice as an adult, and you shouldn’t worry yourself trying to control my diet.
And then go about eating what you want like an adult instead of acting like a petulant fucking child and acting like your mother spouse is holding you back from you doing what you really want to do, or,
Option 2: be an adult and make a plan of healthy eating that you can live with and adhere to it, maybe deviating sometimes because you’re a human, and not hoisting your health onto the backs of others and then taking out your frustrations on them.
If one’s spouse just can’t handle this candid request, then there’s a problem there. That’s just controlling. I mean I’d understand it if someone was worried about my health, but after a gentle “ok fuck off” I’d appreciate the fucking off to happen. I don’t really think someone should be trying to control someone else’s diet in the first place–but I can understand why someone would start doing that out of fear for someone else’s health. I just think people ought to communicate instead of having some silent bitter war.
I swear popular culture makes marriage out to be men going from one mother they like to have temper tantrums at to another. I hope aside from my dad and the idiots who make commercials and comics this is a rarity in actual relationships. Do most people liiike. . .just not talk to their spouses except to bark orders at each other? Is there something my husband and I are just missing out on here by respecting each other and being friends? I don’t get it.
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