Holding it together, thanks to a plate of BBQ chicken

Posted by E-George on September 25, 2007

This is usually the point in the semester where I would normally abandon all semblance of a healthy diet in favor of indulgent “comfort” foods like macaroni & cheese, or Ramen noodles, or just plain ice cream with a spoon of peanut butter on the side. I would do this for a couple of reasons:

1. At 12 for $1, Ramen noodles are an extremely cheap way to keep one’s sodium levels up, freeing up valuable grocery dollars for important things like ice cream and peanut butter.
2. I was tired. And mostly cranky. And I wanted to achieve the neural-chemical reaction of putting foods in my mouth that caused my brain to send out the “relax and be comforted for thou art in charge of thine 2-bedroom-rented kingdom.”

While I absolutely achieved my goal of feeling comforted and in charge, I also achieved a consequence of, oh, 30 pounds strapped indecorously to my ass, thighs, stomach, and a series of chins.

This semester has been different in so many ways. Matthew has taken up the chalice without having to be asked and does most of the menu planning, grocery shopping, and cooking. For those nights when I’m coming home late, he’s got a plate of dinner in the microwave for me, all ready to go. And, it’s always really good, healthy food. Tonight, for example, was easily some of the best open-face BBQ chicken sandwich I’ve ever eaten on 59kwG bread. THAT’S comfort food. The food that is prepared by someone who genuinely cares and wants to help.  Plus, it always helps that my genuinely caring someone governs our pantry using strict Bohnsack Food Law, the first law which says:

Thou shalt only eat macaroni and cheese when the moon abandons our skies and the oceans fart yogurt.

And the second law which states:

Sugar is the dessicated remains of Satan’s tears and shall not be brought into these premises for consumption, nor, with foreknowledge, stored, stashed, or otherwise smuggled into any nook, crevice, or cranny for covert uses, which includes, but is not limited to, spurious baking activities.

And, the third law which says:

Bread which hath not the holy scriptures upon its packaging, and contains less than the required 59-separate-and-distinct sprouted grains, and is sliced thicker than 0.25 inches will be only curtly frowned at in the store, and declared to be “poop.” There will be no bread brought onto these premises that doth not meet the minimum specification, outlined above.

There are many many laws contained within the Bohnsack Food Law. One day I’ll compile them for publication. Then we can have amendments to the Bohnsack Food Constitution, and the Bohnsack Food Eater’s Bill of Rights. But I digress.

I feel like I can take on these classes with greater stamina, partly because I know Matt will be home when I get there and will be available to bounce questions and ideas off of, over a great Greek meatballs and steamed green beans dinner, and partly because I know that it’s because of his keeping us both on track nutritionally that I have the correct energy levels to maintain the speed and pace I do.

It’s comfort like what Matt provides every day that short circuit’s the brain trying to market the appeal of badonkadonk to my ass via the much-favored mac’n'cheese vehicle. In fact, I’m often taken aback by the amount of willing support Matthew provides me without my having to ask, cajole, beg, or shit-kick out of him. I know, without hesitation, that it’s because of his steady hand that this semester has been going so well (my lack of passing grades notwithstanding).

Who’s the spoiled-est? You KNOW this, man!

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