Only Half a Lunch for Me ... (a truly horrific tale of lunchbox letdown)

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 ....

Lunch as it should be ....

Lunch as it should be ....