Hubby informed me today that he has "finally lost weight". Finally? I didn't even know he was trying to lose weight. Has he been exercising? No. Has he been cutting calories? No. Has he been eating diet meals? No.
Does he still eat frozen pizza? Yes. Does he still eat ice cream? Yes. Does he eat chips everyday with his lunch? Yes.
So he is now back down to his ideal thin weight without even doing anything. I hate him.
I am now 38 weeks pregnant and have all the lovely baby weight that comes with that. I now only weigh 20 + pounds less than him. I hate him.
I want to sit on him, crushing him with my giant pregnant boobs, and force feed him cake and cookies and heavy cream and all the fried food I can find. I hate him.
We went to breakfast this morning. He ate a country fried steak with country gravy all over it, grits flooded in butter, biscuts with more gravy and I'm sure some other nasty fat food that would cause my heart to stop and add 5 lbs to my frame. I on the other hand, had yogurt and granola, some eggs and apples, and a muffin (ok the muffin is loaded with butter and sugar and not good for me) and I probably gained weight while he "finally" lost some. I hate him.
Luckily for him it is his birthday and so I just went on loving him.