Friday, October 10, 2008

Don't Come Between Me and My Food

Isn't it funny that, sometimes, the biggest arguments with your loved ones are brought about by the smallest, most insignificant things?

Take, for example, an argument that FP and I had last night. (Now, as a side note, I don't want to air my dirty laundry in public, but quite a few of you have mentioned that FP and I have the 'perfect' relationship, that he is the 'perfect' boyfriend and that we never seem to fight. But you're wrong! Oooh you are so wrong. FP and I argue just like every other normal couple in this world, it's just I tend not to write about that part of our lives. Because, well, that's between him and me.)

We had been doing some evening shopping at the centre commercial after work last night and decided to get ourselves - big gasp of horror - a McDonald's for dinner, both enticed by the fact it meant no dishes to wash and no cooking on my part. Not to mention that the fridge was, as usual, depressingly empty except for the mouldy cheese, Whiskas cat milk and half a mushy courgette (now what concoction could I make with that? Answers in the comments box, culinary geniuses).

Now there's something you should know. I love food. Some might say too much. And I hate sport. Some might say too much. And this does not a good mixture make. So to balance out this unfortunate like / dislike combination, I have spent my entire life dieting. I have tried it all; the cabbage soup diet, the Atkins diet, plain old starving myself, the raw diet, Weight Watcher's, Scottish Slimmers...you name it I've done it and if I haven't then it's probably because I've not heard of it yet. I am constantly on a diet, or about to start a diet, or failing on a diet and when I allow myself a McDonald's (once a year, perhaps), I want to really enjoy it. I want a big juicy burger with cheese and bacon and all the tomatoes and ghurkins they can fit in there. I want the fries. I want the tomato ketchup sachets. Five of them. At least. And I want it all to myself.

But it seems that my boyfriend was not aware of this because he did a Very. Bad. Thing.

He bought a bacon burger meal and an extra bacon burger.

Do you know what that means?! That means that there was only one poke o' chips (serving of fries for the Americans)! And that means FP expected us to share them. In the name of the wee green man, I thought, there's no way I'm sharing my chips. So I said so, but FP thought I was joking and shook his head in amusement, muttering something about me cracking him up.

And so the inevitable happened. I turned into the female version of the Hulk. It's not the first time I'd felt this Hulk-like anger when somone has come between me and my food. When I was fifteen I threatened to leave home and run away when my mum burned the pizza I'd been looking so forward to eating. And then there was the time the albino boy at school bizzarely licked the icing off of my iced biscuit and I went mental at him and said something unforgivable about it snowing in his house. Other couples enjoy sitting on the sofa together eating a tub of Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream with a single spoon, but when I tried this I ended up crying because the boyfriend at the time was taking more cookie dough chunks than I was getting and we actually broke up because of this.

So FP and I ate our burgers in moody silence, the fries laying uneaten in the middle of the table, both of us refusing to eat them now, suffering from a bout of stubborness. I pushed them under his nose and hissed 'eat them, they're your chips, not mine' and he would do the same to me, but no one did eat them in the end.

But this morning, when I woke up to his soft sleepy apology kisses on my forehead and cheeks, it dawned on me. We had our biggest fight over a poke o' McDonald's chips because we have no bigger problems to argue about. And that felt good.

13 comments:

pierre l said...

A great post, Princesse. It's lovely to see you so much in love and so happy.
You didn't tell us what happened to the drink: did you share that, or fight over it as well?

Princesse Ecossaise said...

ah, Pierre well the drink got drunk. I've never been that fussed about soda so I was happy to share. Had it been alcohol or hot chocolate, however...

T.D. Newton said...

Hilarious.

Well, first of all, I don't even know what the hell a "courgette" is, so my culinary experience or bravery certainly can't help you there.

No sharing "chips." If, for some reason, you go out to a restaurant and share an entre (in America, portions are big enough that a whole family can sometimes eat off the same stupid plate... okay SMALL exaggeration) then sharing is kind of a given. If you're each getting your own sandwich, though, you should get your own "chips." Preposterous.

...

Also, we attended the GREAT AMERICAN BEER FESTIVAL here in Denver last night (and we're about to go again in another hour or so, as soon as Micah gets done with class). I wanted to let you know that I had two beers either named or called something containing SAISON. Funny huh?

pierre l said...

Hello T.D.; "courgette" = "zucchini", in England as well as France.
I have to agree that it is very unfair indeed to expect Princesse to share a portion of McDonald's fries.

Kim said...

I agree with everyone and you Princess, you can't share your chips, its just not done! I eat all my chips and think... 'hmmmm, I could really do with some more'. Perhaps he thought it would be romantic to share?

At least FP will eat McD's. I love BK and whenever I go to Scotland I stare at BK almost droooling as we drive past and then I realise that no I can't visit BK, McDs, Starbucks etc. with British Boy because they are chain stores and he doesn't like them.

I completely understand your love of food and not of sport, and the dieting. I'm thinking tomorrow (or perhaps monday!) I'll start the diet again...

curiositist said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
curiositist said...

OOO!It seems you all are so gready!But your post is great!

Loth said...

I love my children dearly, as you know, but I stab their hands with a plastic fork if they try to take any of my chips. And husband knows better after 21 years together. Get. Your. Own. Chips. (I can share onion rings but only just.)

Zhu said...

Is there such a thing as the Scottish Slimmer??? :D

Once thing I hate, on the subject of food, is that mister can eat pretty much anything he wants. I can't, otherwise I'd end up being 400 pds.

So when he suggests we eat out pizza, fast food or buffet, I sometimes get really mad. Especially if I did two hours of yoga earlier that day.

Seriously, I wouldn't share my fries either.

Chouitie said...

Tee hee, I love your post!! Made me laugh out loud.

Know what you mean about the love of food and rather limited interest in being sporty though, although I have to say, since I arrived in Paris 5 weeks ago, running round the metro seems to have worked wonders - I can fit into all those pairs of jeans I grew out of when we were staying with the beaux-parents this summer.

And I agree - sharing chips is a definite no no, no matter how much you love someone!

Mmmm, I really fancy a McDo now...looks like it'll be the rather less tasty pasta tonight unfortunately (Hubby's cooking!).

John C said...

Save a marriage, send those chips to JohnC! Remember, once bitten...you can never take it back...and probably won't either, lol.

Cute and great post, Princess. :)

joy suzanne said...

Princesse, you are a great writer! I love your style. This made me laugh out loud.

Do you plan on writing some day? I mean, for a living? Cos, um, you should.

Micah D.L. said...

mmmm...fooooooooooooooooooood!!!!!!!!

i too [heart] food and hate exercise. i can't really even pay attention to anything after mention of bacon burgers. i think there was a fight?

i friggin' love burgers and fries!

and yes, there were multiple SAISON beers and we drank to thee :o)