Being overweight is not cool. So I have put my woman on a diet.
We had words on the subject. She said that I am chubby myself, so who am I to tell her to shed some pounds? I retorted that I am a macho defender of home and garden, so I need the extra weight to keep that Maine Coon from six houses down off my back.
Judge for yourself; am I chubby? All I can see is muscle.
Efficient as I am, I have made a list of things my woman is allowed to eat from now on.
Obviously I have taken into account that she is human and needs roughage, so there are plenty of veggies on that list (aaaargh, the idea! I can stomach the occasional garden pea, but that's about it).
Things she can eat:
vegetables (any vegetables, except potatoes)
all kinds of lettuce
all kinds of fruit
oats (silly woman, as if she is a horse, anyway... where was I?)
cheese (not in great amounts, mind)
Things she cannot eat:
Now, I have made an allowance for alcohol, as I know that she will go barmy when I forbid this stuff. We have had a long discussion about this, and she has been able to convince me that my life wouldn't be pretty when I take a stand about it. "Will not be worth living", were her exact words. But: we compromised. I said none whatsoever, she said two glasses a day (keeps the loony bin away) and we agreed on one glass a day (keeps the doctors at bay).
We all know that Easter Weekend is coming up, and it will be interesting (to put it mildly) to see how she will cope with family members stuffing themselves with chocolate eggs and carrot cake and sloshing away the wine, sherry and beer as if tomorrow never comes.
Still. It is all for her own good. 57 Is the new 47, they say, but not when she looks like a sack of beets.
Right. Signing off now. Have a great Easter!