The Bad Wife

That’s Me… The bad wife, the bad influence. The pancake and pale ale pusher. This photo (at right) illustrates the crazed result.

My hubby has been trying to slim down and he’s been doing a great job of it, despite my existence. Perhaps you’ve read the blog he shares with my brother, Loser In Laws, or John and Colin Lose Big ? John posts regularly, and praises his wife Patty for her support… interestingly, Colin I’ve noticed hasn’t been praising much.

I think it may be, in part, because I roll over and say things like: “Where’s my pancakes?!” first thing in the morning. Or, “I need a drink! Let’s go get some wings!” after a long day at work. I mean, come on. I should know better. But I am a selfish, horrible wife.

Colin is an amazing person married to a bonkers woman. When he sets his mind to something, he drives on through to the end of it. In the first month of his co-losing-athon with John, he dropped 12 pounds. He worked out and ate better. He was determined. When I set my mind to something, I am like a kid of a snow saucer, careening downhill. I’m fast and wild, then I come to a messy stop, and I wander off, distracted by some other kids making a snow man.

In the case of Man versus Eating Habits, what did The Bad Wife do? Well she gave up candy for Lent (and stuck to it!) while increasing her intake of cookies, cake, soda and granola bars, and virtually giving up altogether on any form of exercise (even the lame yoga she was doing which was nothing). She’s even lied-by-omission to the much adored (and practically perfect wife) Frances, about their co-Lenten-situp-athon. The truth: Situps… she’s done none since the first week.

Worst of al?l She’s started talking about herself in the third person, ala Bob Dole.

Rubbing Off

I’ve changed my eating habits substantially in the last four years since Colin and I joined together in holy matrimony. I have been determined to stop the frozen-pizza and gummy-bear madness and get on the real food gravy train. But the dirty secret of this: I am nothing more than a “Cook for us!” cheerleader to my husband (who is the Jaimie Oliver of the family). I am also the first to suggest “Pizza tonight?” when the cravings hit. And Colin, burdened with two horrific flaws — he works hard and he likes to please me — will inevitably bow to my requests.

So what I feared from our early dating (when I always thought he was too good for me) has occurred: his goodness (eating better, being healthier, great ability to cook anything except lasagne) has rubbed off on me a bit. But unfortunately, my badness (be lazy, stay in bed, give up, don’t bother) may also be rubbing off on him.

Argh. Bad Wife.