Saralee Perel
Get The Stinky Broccoli Out Of My Face
As the holidays draw near, we take this special time to focus our emotions on what really matters most of all.
Our weight.
Frankly, I think popular holiday dieting strategies are a bring-down. Can’t we relish a few lousy meals without worrying about our waistline?
I thought I had a pretty savvy attitude until Bob and I went out to dinner after Christmas shopping. I’ve read Fat Is A Feminist Issue. This dieting obsession does a real number on women’s (and men’s) heads.
Bob ordered chicken with steamed broccoli. I ordered spaghetti with two sides of garlic bread. When I asked for butter as a dipping sauce for the bread sticks, Bob touched my arm.
“You don’t really want that,” he said.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“I know you. You’ll hate yourself tomorrow.”
I dunked a bread stick in butter. “Are you trying to say I’m fat?”
“No.” He took his napkin and dabbed sweat from his forehead.
“I don’t look any different than I did at our wedding.” I rolled the pasta around a fork and sucked it off. “Do I?”
“Well . . . ,” he cut a piece of broccoli in half and offered it to me.
I whacked it out of his hand onto the table. “Do I?”
“Your face has more character, that’s all.”
“I know what that means. It means I’m fat!”
“I love you no matter what you look like,” he said.
“Oh, that’s a good one.” I dumped the whole jar of parmesan on my spaghetti. “And I love you even though you’re as sensitive as a Lyme-infested tick. You gave me a doctor’s scale and a full length mirror last Xmas!”
“That’s what you wanted!”
“Are you crazy? I said that, but you should never have done it!”
Later that night, he came into the bathroom where I’d been sulking in the tub for two hours. He said gently, “You always worry about gaining weight over the holidays. I’m just trying to help.”
“Trust me. There’s not a woman in the universe who wants this kind of help.”
“Should I lie to you?”
“Of course. Now, let’s try again. Have I changed?”
“Well,” he cleared his throat, “just a very little bit.”
“What you really mean is I’ve put on enough weight to buy clothes in the tent department of Circuses-R-Us.”
He stared at me in disbelief.
“What’s the matter?” I yanked the curtain closed. “Haven’t you ever seen the Colossus of Rhodes take a bath?”
He pulled the curtain back. “These things aren’t what’s important.”
“Oh really? Get your high school picture from my top drawer. We’ll see what’s important.”
A dying baby bird sound came from his throat. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Can’t take it, can you.” He reluctantly got the picture. I grabbed it. He’s thinner now. “How dare you show me this? You better have an apology.”
He took my hand. “I shouldn’t need to tell you I love the way you look.”
“Oh yes you should.” I was calming down.
“And the person you are is more important than looks. Not that you don’t look great.”
I made room as he climbed into the tub. I covered my stomach with my arms. “I never want to get to the stage where we cover things,” he said.
“But you don’t have any things to cover.”
And with great aplomb and perfect timing, he moved my arms and lovingly lied, “Neither do you.”
And so, I plan to celebrate the holidays without food guilt. If a few pounds show up, I won’t get angry at myself. That way, I can focus on what matters most of all. The love I give and receive, my precious moments on earth and the wondrous and joyous miracle that Sara Lee now makes Chocolate Chip Cookie Crumble Cheesecake.
Copyright . Saralee Perel. All rights reserved.
