Tonight I learned an important lesson about married life that never even occurred to me before: Don't not like the dinner that the wife made for you.
But let's back up just a little bit first to understand where I am coming from. A couple years ago we bought a whole bunch of tamales for a Christmas party (the tamale is very popular in this parts for Christmas). We had a few tamales left over after the party so we ate them for a few days afterwards until I ate myself a really, really bad one that made me about as sick as I have ever been. I threw up for two days straight and when I wasn't throwing up I slept. I lost like 10-15 pounds and it took me nearly a week to get my strength back. It was one of the most miserable experiences of my life.
To this day I can't eat masa, the corn meal substance that they make tamales out of. Just the sight of it, just the smell of it, just the thought of it makes me feel sick to my stomach. Typing this is making me feel ill. Tamales are out of my diet forever, masa shall never pass through these lips again.
Over the past two weeks we have been planning our meals out of a Weight Watchers cookbook that my mom swore by and gave to me while I was home a couple weeks ago. It has a ton of delicious, super easy recipes and we have thoroughly enjoyed every one that we have made so far.
One of the first recipes that caught our attention was a polenta with zucchini, tomatoes and mushrooms dish. It consisted of slicing up a polenta log, lightly pan frying the slices and then smothering it with the cooked vegetables. Simple, easy and yummy.
Or so I thought. It was simple, it was easy, but unfortunately I didn't realize that polenta might as well be the same thing as masa. Same texture, same taste, same smell. I started having post-traumatic flashbacks to my two days with my head in the toilet and just couldn't keep eating. I fought the urge to freak the fuck out, spit it back up and cry and complain. Instead I politely asked Death? if she would like my polenta and left it at that.
Next thing I know I got the old-fashioned wife guilt trip that lasted the rest of the night. I didn't mean for her to take it personally, it's not that she did a bad job of cooking dinner or anything, I just didn't know that polenta would be so damn offensive.
So I guess it comes down to which you think is worse: having the wife mad at you because you didn't like her dinner or living in the bathroom for the next two days.
Lesson learned...next time I guess I'll pick living in the bathroom for a couple days. I could stand to lose a few pounds anyway.
But let's back up just a little bit first to understand where I am coming from. A couple years ago we bought a whole bunch of tamales for a Christmas party (the tamale is very popular in this parts for Christmas). We had a few tamales left over after the party so we ate them for a few days afterwards until I ate myself a really, really bad one that made me about as sick as I have ever been. I threw up for two days straight and when I wasn't throwing up I slept. I lost like 10-15 pounds and it took me nearly a week to get my strength back. It was one of the most miserable experiences of my life.
To this day I can't eat masa, the corn meal substance that they make tamales out of. Just the sight of it, just the smell of it, just the thought of it makes me feel sick to my stomach. Typing this is making me feel ill. Tamales are out of my diet forever, masa shall never pass through these lips again.
Over the past two weeks we have been planning our meals out of a Weight Watchers cookbook that my mom swore by and gave to me while I was home a couple weeks ago. It has a ton of delicious, super easy recipes and we have thoroughly enjoyed every one that we have made so far.
One of the first recipes that caught our attention was a polenta with zucchini, tomatoes and mushrooms dish. It consisted of slicing up a polenta log, lightly pan frying the slices and then smothering it with the cooked vegetables. Simple, easy and yummy.
Or so I thought. It was simple, it was easy, but unfortunately I didn't realize that polenta might as well be the same thing as masa. Same texture, same taste, same smell. I started having post-traumatic flashbacks to my two days with my head in the toilet and just couldn't keep eating. I fought the urge to freak the fuck out, spit it back up and cry and complain. Instead I politely asked Death? if she would like my polenta and left it at that.
Next thing I know I got the old-fashioned wife guilt trip that lasted the rest of the night. I didn't mean for her to take it personally, it's not that she did a bad job of cooking dinner or anything, I just didn't know that polenta would be so damn offensive.
So I guess it comes down to which you think is worse: having the wife mad at you because you didn't like her dinner or living in the bathroom for the next two days.
Lesson learned...next time I guess I'll pick living in the bathroom for a couple days. I could stand to lose a few pounds anyway.
5 comments:
I guess, had I been you, I'd be sleeping on the couch as well..
Polenta = Evil!
blegh!
She got mad? Seems reasonable to me.
Then again, my wife and I make our own separate meals, since she's a vegetarian and I'm a vegiphobe.
I'm with Avi....I think it's reasonable but what do I know?
I too make mostly my own meals and eat while watching teevee.
How funny....Its the sad thing about us women...if we cook YOU HAVE to eat. By the way, I enoyed reading few of your posts.
It's a no-win situation. Do what you did, get that result. Eat it and endure the wretching she'd wonder why you couldn't be upfront and honest with her, because thats the foundation of a good relationship.
See this is why you need a dog you can pass that stuff to under the table -- then everybody wins!
You know, except the dog.
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