Thursday, September 14, 2006
We had a fight the other day, the first time we (read: I) shouted at each other (read: her). Some member of the diet mafia had published a study on the feeding habits of the Belgians. According to this study, only one in ten Belgians has a healthy diet. Three out of ten people are overweight. And four out of ten people go more than four times a month to a fast-food restaurant. ‘Eating healthy’ was defined here as eating fruit and veggies with every meal every day. Show me a person who’s doing that and I’ll show you a grey skinned vegetarian guzzling down pills to make up for the vitamin deficiency.
‘You see!’, said she-who-has-to-measure-her-waist-in-millimetres. ‘You really should loose weight.’
According to her, I’m a fat bloke. To put this into perspective, I’m 1.87 m. tall and I weigh 82 kilos. So I’m clearly not fat, although of course a 34-year old office worker doesn’t have the streamlined body of a 21 year old gold medal winner.
My wife however suffers from the delusion that many married women have, thinking that they can kneed their husband in any shape and form they desire, not to mention his social life, his hobbies, his drinking behaviour and so on. So she had been teasing my about my ever-so-slightly flabby waist for the last couple of weeks, making remarks every time I drank a soda and so on.
So there was some shouting and an attempt to slam a harmonica door, which is very difficult. Since this was our first real fight I was hoping for some wiedergutmachungssex, but now she’s feeling ill.
I tell you, if my mood gets any worse, I’ll start biting people.