This morning Tony woke me up and said, “I lost five pounds!” I thought to myself, maybe this is going to be every fat woman’s nightmare (I’ll probably gain weight). Eventually, I got up and weighed myself. I made sure the red needle was as far to the right of the zero as it possibly could be, yet still on the line . . . selective vision.
I lost five pounds, too! So we should be done in five days, right!
Tony is making breakfast this morning. I’m instructing him from the other room. Take a slice of smoked salmon, put some cream cheese on it, place a chunk of cucumber or a green onion in the middle, then roll it up and chop into three pieces. He continues to question me, “How much salmon can we have?” “How much cream cheese?” “Do I chop the onion up?” I can hear a hint of frustration in his voice. “We can have bacon and eggs if you want,” I answer.
“No, that’s okay,” he walks into the family room dangling a ragged piece of salmon the size of a small child’s fist, “But, we need bigger salmon.”