Many weeks ago, while we were visiting Joe's parents, his father smugly passed a book across the kitchen table to Joe. I say "smugly" because I know that even though his father loves me, he knowingly gave Joe a book that would brainwash him into believing bread to be an evil thing.
I love bread. Let me put this more succintly: I love bread as much as I love Joe. Just as my life would never be fulfilled without Joe, it would never be satisfactory without bread. Or butter, for that matter. Or cheese. But mostly bread. And Joe.
I think you know what I mean.
It is for this very reason that Dr. Atkins and I have never really seen eye to eye. And now I have another diet guru to contend with. For about a month, Joe absorbed the tenets for Dr. Deny-Reagan-Bread's teachings. He would interrupt my own reading to tell me interesting tidbits from the book. For example, sardines are an excellent snack (barf), soy gives men breasts (very crucial to know and, in turn, avoid if you're a dude), and nuts and seeds are delicious and nutritious (hurray for good fats!). I actually have no issues with complying to a fair bit of the diet. Except the banishment of bread. Oh, and eating sardines.
So we stopped buying bread. We began speaking a new language, where we talked in tongues about buying organic and free-range and eschewing "Frankenfoods" and loaves of bread (sniff). And things were going well. Then, all of a sudden, I found myself sneaking back to the grocery store for crusty loaves of French bread to go with our soup. And, like the sinner he is, Joe ate it.
So imagine my dismay when he walked into the house today, smelled the butter browning on our bread, and declared that he would not be eating bread during the week anymore! I felt like the serpent offering the apple. I guess that would make Joe Eve.
The thing that kills me is that Joe is slim. He's got a kickin' metabolism and he works out all the time. If anyone should be able to have their cake and eat it, too, it should be him. And he squanders his powers! Meanwhile, I am likely to cave over a crouton. A crappy, store-bought one at that.
Let's face it. I'm not likely to ever give up bread. But the sardines you can have.