Today, My Lovelys, I must reveal to you the atrocious misdeed that was committed against me. I woke up the morning and my mammoth bowl of candy was GONE. (To know of which mammoth bowl of candy I speak of, refer to the P.S. in my previous post “Party or Bust”.
My Rockstar had the gall to return this colossal basin of candy to his work, and now I am left candy-less. I will explain to you why I feel so bamboozled, and why things can never be the same between us.
To begin, I must state that candy is at the top of my food pyramid. Nevermind if I am remiss in eating the other 9 food groups- if I have candy, I shall not be hungry, or short of energy. I believe my metabolism is completely screwed up and I remain non-obese because I have made it a habit in my life of eating a bag of candy in one sitting on occasion. While this is probably not the most beneficial for my health, I am neither diabetic, or lard-assed and I have all my teeth, so I do not believe taking nourishment from copious amounts of candy sporadically is harmful. My Rockstar does not agree.
Last night, I was enjoying a lovely supper of mini Twix and bite-size Snickrs, when my Rockstar stated, “I should really take all that candy into work so you don’t eat it all.”
This irked me, because although he has never hinted or come out and said that I’m fat, I know that he is worried about weight issues in general, and I believe that was what he was getting at. I told him if he was implying that I would get fat from eating all that candy, I could also imply that beer is not exactly great for HIS physique either, but that I would never do that because it isn’t nice and he is the boss of his body. (except for when I’m on top.)
He then asked me if I had never told my ex-hubby he was fat (he was 270 lbs.) I told him no, my ex’s weight had never been an issue to me, and the only time I mentioned it was when HE himself complained about it, and then I only suggested ways in which he could help himself. Anyhoo, this is not my point.
In the past while, I have had to forego my ocassional snarfing of candy, because I have been putting my candy money toward healthful groceries for my Rockstar and his Daughter. I want to take care of them, but shame on him for not allowing me MY treats when I took the initiative to steal them from a drunken party.
Secondly, I have never and WOULD NEVER tell him what he should or shouldn’t eat. He is his own person, an adult, and I am not his mom. If he want to kill himself on beer and cheese, who am I to stop him? So I resent the fact that he hasn’t the respect to do the same.
In my defense, in my drunken stupor, when I found that bowl of candy in the first place, not one person had eaten out of it. The party was almost over at that point, and it would have been a terrible shame to let it all go to waste. Other guests at the party saw me taking it and didn’t say anything, and I DID offer some to anyone I came across on my way to deposit it in the car. Now, it sits at my Rockstar’s workplace, where the only person who will be eating it is the man my Rockstar has described as a human Hoover. I am convinced I need it more than HE does.
I will not let this treachery go unpunished. Justice will not be served until my Rockstar buys me a 20 lb. bag of candy and he receives in the least a sound lashing. And the next time he buys a case of beer, I’m going to bring it to work with me and see how HE likes it.
P.S. I guess the next time I rob a bank, I won’t be telling him about it, or he’ll probably feel the need to bring a bag of cash to work and give it away…