“Lecia, you see mi gym gloves?”
“Lecia, please rearrange my gym drawers. Put the tops and bottoms separate.”
Why does this sound so familiar?
Why, yes, it’s Bucka getting gym ready.
For most people, January is a time of new beginnings. The New Year brings new epiphanies, like the need to lose weight or the desire to be healthy and fit. For the man I married, January is not about new beginnings. His desire to lose weight is driven by one and one thing only: Trinidad carnival.
To say his work-out binge is seasonal is putting it mildly. Every January he gets carnival fever: a mad rush to Spartan gym (every. single. day.) to see if he can defy logic and miraculously chisel six-pack abs in time for carnival.
Did I mention that Trinidad carnival is approximately eight weeks from January? Yet, he remains relentless, not the least bit deterred that his carnival pals (who are all already chiseled I might add) started their carnival gym routine months ahead of him, in fact I’m pretty sure they all hit the gym the day after they return from Trinidad carnival.
These men realize (as all rational human beings do) that perfection takes time and dedication. But among us walks my beloved husband who holds firm to the view that eight weeks is sufficient time to lose 40 to 60 pounds and chisel perfect abs (can you say de-luuuu-sional).
And as if it isn’t bad enough that he has managed to convince himself of the impossible, he then goes on a mission to convince others by entering into these silly bets. Yes, he will haggle every and anyone who will entertain him into entering a dollar bet that he will lose between 30 – 40 pounds in whatever little time he has left.
“But honey, people take six months to a year to lose that kind of weight! You can’t seriously enter into a bet to lose it in four weeks!” That’s me trying to appeal to good sense.
“Lecia, just easy yourself, who made you a fitness expert?”
Sigh. We shall die in poverty if he continues these bets.
And I won’t even mention the fact that he has been on every conceivable fad diet. You think it, he has done it: fruits, healthy natural teas, nasty green juices, and the most recent being a coconut water binge.
Y-e-s, I’ll admit that in the past he has lost up to 20 pounds in two weeks, but…
“Most of that is water weight though Bucka! There is no way in hell you are going to lose another 20 in two weeks! Another of my futile attempts to appeal to good sense.
“You see if I don’t achieve this goal, it’s because I don’t have a supportive wife.”
“Oh, so now it’s on me? Seriously”
Bring on the guilt trip will you. And it usually works, like a charm.
So like any “supportive” wife I go into Hitler-diet-watcher mode, calling him out on every unhealthy food decision, performing selfless acts of rescue whenever he attempts to shove any non-diet worthy morsel of food into his mouth. And boy does he try:
“Oh hell no, you can’t eat that!”
And when full frontal confrontations seem too severe, I aim for passive aggression:
“So I guess we are no longer on a diet, are we?” This is usually accompanied by me staring him down as he tries to stuff his face with food that is not on the approved diet list.
“Lecia, just easy yourself no.” It’s a stare down as he tries unsuccessfully to suppress the mounting anger.
Who’s not “supportive” now! Meet Lecia, the weight watcher from hell.
Within the first two weeks of his diet, he is like a junkie suffering from withdrawal.
“Babes, I can buy a piece of KFC?
“But babes, the chicken is protein and potato (and by potato he means the greasy fries) is good carbs.”
“Really now, REALLY NOW!”
In defiance to my strong objection he still goes ahead, pulls into KFC and orders indiscriminately. But the worst part is the after effect, the guilt trip after he proceeds to have his own way:
*Groans* “Lecia, why you make me eat that?”
“And by eat I’m assuming you mean gobble.”
*Groans even louder*
“Lecia, any more diet tea leave? I can get some please”
Sweet baby Jesus where exactly in my vows did it say that I have to deal with this crap!
“Yes dear. I’ll put on the kettle.”
And such is the story leading up to carnival…
I'll grudgingly admit that as of today – February 9, 2014 – carnival is less than three weeks away and he is down 20 pounds.
Commendable yes, but not the 60 pounds he projected and certainly nowhere near six-pack abs. However, this time he promises faithfully that he will maintain his diet and continue his gym routine after he gets back from carnival. As the ever supportive wife, I shall watch and see...