Mrs. Junk Food Junkie

When we first started dating, I went poking around in my hubby-to-be’s kitchen cabinets only to discover two six-packs of Marshmallow Peeps and a gigantic bag of chocolate Easter eggs – and it was September. My future other half’s idea of grocery shopping was (and continues to be) celebrating Halloween 365 days a year. And herein lies the problem: I am a healthy eating kinda gal married to Mr. Junk Food. We’ll set off on a road trip and I’ll bring some green apples and a granola bar, and he’ll be munching his was through a Costco-sized bag of mega M&M’s. I grab a vanilla yogurt for breakfast; he grabs a handful of Lucky Charms.

Once we married and started a family, our kids grew up complaining that Daddy had finished off the contents of their birthday party goody bags and plastic pumpkins. When any of us brought any junk food into the house, especially something chocolate, the family motto became: “Hide it from Dad.” Don’t believe me? Recently reorganizing the kitchen cabinets (don’t ask, I find it therapeutic and a highly effective procrastination technique), I stumbled across his personal junk food cabinet that I will inventory here: a party bucket of Twizzlers, a family-sized box of Fudge Striped cookies, a huge bag of Hershey’s Kisses, and some Hostess cupcakes.

To add insult to injury, my other half has the metabolism of Kate Moss (without the drugs). His successful diet strategy is cutting back from 12 Double Stuff Oreos to six. I, on the other hand, just have to drive by a Dunkin’ Donuts to put on two pounds. Sadly, to my knowledge, neither Oprah or Dr. Phil has ever addressed this critical relationship problem. So tell me, can this nutritionally unbalanced marriage be saved?

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