I’m a firm believer in formulas. In order for one to diet successfully, the entire family needs to support the weight-watcher – every step of the way. I’m not suggesting that my family reduces their food consumption, or that my son should snack on carob and muesli bars, but at least when my wife summons us to dinner, there should be one suitable meal on the table.
Last night, I sat across my family (in the kitchen) as we rounded up the events for the day. I enjoy these few uninterrupted minutes where we bring each other up-to-date on what’s happening in our lives. At some stage during our conversation, and while my wife was multi-tasking – preparing the meal, setting the table and talking simultaneously, I was presented with a grilled chicken kebab and a fresh slice of lemon. Contentedly, I entered the final round of eating for the day.
Suddenly, my worst nightmare appeared before me. In an elegant white platter, a family of fried pork schnitzels entered my world, sizzling in a mature cheddar cheese sauce. They were humming a mysterious tune: “Eat me… eat me…”
My eyes began to water. My hands were shaking, and my stomach – growling for a chance to meet this succulent temptation. ‘Eve’ had finally shaken the apple off the tree, offering ‘Adam’ a bite of her newly presented heaven.
The Three Tenors appeared, singing their high notes. I was oblivious to Hansel and Gretel’s cries for help. I wanted a piece of the apple. I needed to experience this unpredicted pleasure…
My wife has this infuriating habit of closing her eyes while eating. This does nothing to curb my appetite. She drifts into a mysterious abyss where every taste bud enjoys a powerful passion with every flavour it encounters. As she continued to play intimately with her food, I left the kitchen table frustrated and abused. The scandalous Kardashians were on the television again, but this time they were working to my favour; fifteen minutes into their show, and I had forgotten that something incredible was happening in the next room.
As the evening transpired, I treated myself to the refreshing joy of Greek yoghurt and honey. ‘Eve’ entered the room with her Scottish biscuits and coffee. Seated on the couch, I noticed her eyes were closed, as she continued to enliven her palette with warm sips and angelic bites of shortbread. I felt defeated.
I was sensing uneasiness again. With one thoughtless move, ‘Eve’ was able to awaken a ‘Pandora’s box’ of emotions. And even more annoying, was that my wife had the power to unleash The Three Tenors within (even though they had been imprisoned for many years). Perhaps I’ve underestimated the strength of a woman.
My work colleagues are questioning my cold stance towards them, particularly the females. Forgive my weariness dear friends, but last night’s events almost brought ‘Adam’ to the brink of disaster.
After all, I don’t want to add more problems to my plate?
Weight for me tomorrow. Paul
Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com
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