Pancakes Look Good On My Husband

In the most recent months of my husband’s cancer challenge, I have decided to feed him whatever his heart desires.  My goal is to keep his weight up, which is no easy task considering he has always been naturally thin and agile. My husband has a set-point when it comes to eating.  He eats only so much, a small portion, and then he’s done.  He never overeats, never gorges, and never seems to have any binges.  Having said that, he loves to snack at night.  Still, as many snacks as I leave next to the bed, he does not gain weight.  So, I’ve decided to break out the big guns and feed him some seriously fattening stuff.  Unfortunately, this means that I am also feeding myself some seriously fattening stuff.

Pancakes have become a regular part of my seriously fattening menu.  I figure if Hubby-Poo wants pancakes every single morning, I will happily indulge him.  No problem.  So…why do pancakes look so darn good on my husband, and so lousy on me?  Grrrr….I feel some ornery coming on just thinking about it.  I mean, come on, I can walk three miles an hour, uphill on my treadmill, five times a week, and those pancakes don’t come off my behind.  What’s his secret, for god’s sake?  How does he do it?  He’s not even getting any exercise, but his abs are still really cool, his shoulders are nice and developed, and his arms look like they did when he was twenty-five.  Yup, I’m definitely feeling ornery.  Can’t ditch the pancakes off the menu, though.  That would break Mooch’s heart.  Our dog has definitely developed a keen sense of when I’m whipping those cakes together.  Nope.  The pancakes can’t go.  I’ll just have to walk longer.  Or…eat grubs while I watch them eat the good stuff.  Hmmm…that gives me an idea for an advertising slogan.  I can see the commercial now.  ‘Grubs: the new appetite suppressant.  It only takes one.’

Copyright 2008 C. D. Blizzard     Visit: www.cdblizzard.com

C. D. Blizzard is the author of the novels Blackwater, Broken, and Profile.