My Wife Is Trying To Kill Me

Recently I had some bloodwork done at a routine doctor appointment.

Now, I'm not the most healthy person when it comes to eating: 'hot, fried and fast' beats out 'green, healthy and requiring preparation' on a scale of the tortoise versus the hare in a footrace. But after getting my bloodwork results back, I realized that much like the fable, the tortoise is going to have to win this one, too.

While my cholesterol was somewhat high, my triglycerides were... through the roof. Which was interesting, because I had no idea I even had them, let alone know what they even do. To me, they sound like the final ingredient in a deadly bomb fashioned by Dr. Evil. But apparently they have something to do with poor eating habits, lots of sugar, and having once owned an 'Air Supply' album.

So, in the interest of... living... I decided to radically amend my diet. Salome and I went shopping the other day, and I scrutinized EVERY item we bought. Cholesterol, sodium, sugar... if it was low, we bought it. Hello, oatmeal, breakfast bars and bananas. Yum.

This morning I awoke to find that Salome had cooked up some orange-cinnamon buns with that gooey frosting that oozes deliciously. Having made 8, she took 2, and instructed me to take the rest.

I then started hunting through our paperwork to see if she had secretly taken an insurance policy out on me.

Now, I don't know if Triglycerides can kill you per se (Coroner: 'Poor guy. Done in by triglycerides.'
Detective: 'Right. We're taking a hard look at the guy's wife.'), but it seems that reasonable precautions should be taken.

But since the time that we have received the test results back, Salome has:

- encouraged me to finish the ice cream in the freezer
- cooked a rice, beans and kielbasa dinner, encouraging me to 'finish' the foot-long kielbasa, minus the two inch cut she took for herself
- Sent me to the grocery to pick up frozen pizza, and expressed bafflement when I returned with said pizza for her and a chicken breast with brown rice for myself
- Keeps trying to give me hot chocolate

In fairness to Salome, she IS very pregnant, and oftentimes craves sweet things. Moreover, given that a baby is pressing against her stomach, she gets full rather quickly. So, I get the lion's share of the junk food that we eat. So, while I can't accuse her outright of trying to do me in, I suspect that all of this is just her patient way of setting herself up with an alibi:

Salome: *Sniff*... I didn't know that lard-encrusted donuts were dangerous, detective. I was pregnant. I was craving. I didn't think they'd be fatal!!!

Detective: I understand, Mrs. R----. My wife was the same way. I'm truly sorry for your loss.

Salome: *Stiffling a sob*. Thank you, detective. It came as such a shock. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to call the insurance company.

If you are reading this, and something should happen to me... ooh, donuts.

Random Thoughts

- Saw a morbidly obese person getting out of a car she had parked in a handicapped stall. Seems to me it ought to be the other way around: shouldn't fat people be required to park at the end of the lot, so they at least get a little exercise?

- Debated about getting a 'Baby on Board' bumper sticker, once the baby comes. Then it dawned on me: no one ever drives more carefully when they see this. It only explains why YOU are driving like an idiot.

- An entertainment news magazine started an article saying 'Paris Hilton's fans...'. Baffling. Doesn't one need a particular talent in order to have fans???