I don’t normally tell stories around here because they tend to get me into trouble and cause sudden unemployment, but I might be able to survive this one…or just end up sleeping on the couch.
My wife started a nutrition plan Mid-December.
Since my daily diet has consisted of coffee, Mtn. Dew and one 1000 calorie meal, called dinner, a day, I thought I could join in the melee. She has all meals planned in advance and I eat three (3) 400 calorie meals during the day.
Breakfast and Dinner are consumed at home and I eat exactly what she tells me to eat. Nothing more; nothing less.
I might half-heartedly complain, but I eat it.
Lunches are prepared a day in advance. When she makes her lunch, she prepares a second portion for me to eat the following day. It gets marked in the refrigerator with a yellow sticky.
I open the door grab the marked container and it is done. if it is a salad, I eat ti cold. If not, I heat it up and eat it.
Last night, she stressed the importance not to grab the wrong container. She had never stressed this previously, so I was very careful this morning. The menu called for a “Red Bean Chili.”
I never really know what they diced, pureed or mashed version of these meals I am getting, I just eat it.
I opened the container at work and it didn’t look like any Chili that I had ever eaten.
I heated it in the microwave for 90 seconds.
After it was done, I opened it and it smelled like a mix of tomato and something…and it was in some kind of paste form.
Must be “Red Bean Chili.” Maybe just “blended.”
I ate it.
It was bitter, spicy, acidic and very peppery.
After I cleaned the container, I posted on my wife’s Facebook Wall questioning the food…it seemed more like a rust remover. But she insisted it was Chili.
It took coming home and finding the unmarked container of Chili in the refrigerator to discover what had happened.
She marked a puree of red pepper, cayenne and tomato that was intended to be eaten as a dip…in very small doses.
This did not sit well on my stomach that already had tomato “issues” due to an excessive amount of tomato soup eaten during what I call “The Divorce Years” of my childhood.
My stomach has been burning all day.
When I came home, my wife suggested that I drink some milk to soothe my stomach.
She’s trying to kill me.