Anyone who's read my post on New Year's Resolutions realizes that I'm trying to live healthier and to be more accountable.
I'm exercising regularly, setting out daily menus, keeping a food journal, really trying to live a healthy and more accountable life. Unfortunately, on occasion this turns me into a rabid beast. Not grumpy, not slightly disconcerted. No, it actually makes me 100 per cent, absolutely, totally, undeniably, rabidly INSANE.
Exercising means getting up at 4:00 a.m. Not good. I am NOT a morning person. But I find that I do best if I exercise in the morning in the ME. Unlike Canada, where returning from work would be a welcome invitation for a run, what with fresh air, bustling crowds and cool hilly outdoor venues to lure me back out of the house, I find myself depleted of energy when I return home after a day's work in Qatar.
So instead of looking forward to a run at the end of the work day, I drag my @$$ out of bed for it 2 hours before the sun is even thinking of showing its face. Note that I am NOT a morning person. I'm not happy about getting up when the moon is still bright. But I do it. Because no matter what, after a run, everything does seem a little bit brighter.
Coupled with this dubious and decidedly un-delightful activity, I have included menus in my daily routine. As such, I plan out a weekly menu, and a set lunch every day. Lunch is prepared the night before, ready to be placed into my lunchbox as I head off to work. It is a balanced and sensible lunch, with dairy, grains, fruit/veg and protein. It is the highlight of my work day. As meager as it may seem, by the time 12:00 noon rolls around, for me it is as desirable as a 3-star Michelin meal. I know exactly what awaits me when I open that teeny tiny little treasure trove of calories.
Which would explain my disenchantment last Thursday as I opened up my lunchbox. In the small container that should have harbored 6 thin slices of Hillshire Farms turkey breast, 1/4 cup shredded cheese, and 1/4 cup green pepper, I found 1 slice of turkey breast (these are paper thin), barely a teaspoon of cheese, and the requisite 1/4 cup of green pepper. My slice of bread was still intact, I still had a Tbsp of mayo in my container, but I was decidedly short in the meat and dairy container.
Could I have been that tired the night before as I put lunch together? Could I have miscalculated somehow, or gotten distracted as I pulled together this integral part of my day? I actually thought long and hard about it. Then I realized that 'no', there was no way I would have skimped. And I re-tracked the events of the past night. Where could everything have gone so wrong?
And a lightbulb went off in my head. I placed a call to Smilin' Vic, who was in a meeting at the time.
Me: "Can you talk for a minute, it's really important."
He: "Sure, I'll just step out. What's up?"
Me: "Last night, you went to bed after me. Did you happen to have a snack?"
He: (silence) "I might have had a bite to eat. Why? What's up?"
Me: "Well, 3/4 of my lunch is missing; I have enough to feed Barbie on a diet. I'm just wondering if maybe you picked in the Tupperware container marked 'Gypsy's Lunch - DO NOT TOUCH' in bright red marker?"
He: (silence) "Uhhhh, well, yeah, uhmmm, I had a bit of turkey, and then I realized it was really nicely packed, and then I thought, uhmmm, maybe this is your lunch, and then I put it back. But I SWEAR, it was only after the 5th piece of turkey, and then I thought 'something's not right, I shouldn't be eating this'. And I stopped eating then and there."
Me: "And you never touched the cheese?"
He: (silence) "Uhmmmm, well, yeah, uhmmmm, well I kind of rolled the cheese in the turkey, and it's really good that way, and, uhmmm, but I SWEAR, on the 5th piece of turkey, as soon as I realized that this was probably your lunch, I stopped."
Me: "Seriously? Seriously? Do you realize I am sitting here looking at a slice of bread, one paper-thin slice of turkey and 5 shreds of cheese? Seriously?"
He: (laughing) "That's funny." (more laughing) "No, seriously, that's funny! Baby, I feel really bad, but did you seriously pull me out of a meeting for this?"
Me: (foaming at the mouth, nostrils flaring) "You're an @$$. Karma's a B*%($. Don't ever touch my lunch contents again Soldier. You'll regret it. I love you, but I'm telling you now, you will rue the day you ever touch my processed meats and cheeses again."
I hung up. Enough said. 100% absolutely, disconcertedly, rabidly INSANE!
We haven't talked about this incident in our home again. While I think Smilin' Vic tried to convince himself that my reaction was really cute and funny, I believe somewhere in his core he is afraid. (I know I scared myself.) I think he's realized deep down that you just don't touch a dieting woman's lunch. You just don't go there - to do so is mad. Next time, just reach for the peanut butter and jam. Leave the pre-packed lunches untouched. Or risk the wrath.
I can handle tight deadlines, a 7-year-old's meltdowns, flat tires, bad hair days, boardroom drama, bounced cheques, spilt milk, hot flashes, a burst water pipe. But NOT lunchbox letdown. Let it be known that every single shred of cheese counts. I don't do well with only half a lunch.
Don't mess with me and my lunchbox ....