Battle of the Sexes
My spouse has been recently diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes and it’s pretty much thrown both of us for a loop. We’re learning all kinds of new medical jargon and how to pronounce prescription drugs. We’re treading new territory – and we’re doing it together – well, I am bossing him around and yelling at him if he tries to eat a popsicle or a handful of pretzels…
We met with a Nutritionist. We went to the meeting armed with all kinds of Diabetes books and cookbooks. We nervously fidgeted with our masks and shuffled in our seats. The man was incredibly kind and extremely helpful. He spent over 2 hours talking to us. We learned that Steve would now have to read ALL the labels on food items and count carbs. I sat up in my chair and declared that, I, too would adapt to this new way of eating – heck, I’m overweight and I can stand to eat healthier. And that, my friends, is when I got sucker punched in the gut…. The Nutritionist said that was really wonderful that I was doing this and then he explained that males are to eat between 3-4 carbs per meal (preferably 3) but that females only get to eat 2-3 carbs per meal (preferably 2). The young man was sincerely regretful in informing me this bit of news. I said that was fine. I lied. Did you know that a single banana is 2 carbs? And that a hamburger bun is 2 carbs? Don’t even get me started on a bottle of pop – which, by the way, I gave up drinking 3 weeks ago.
I’ve been seething about the injustice of being a woman ever since that meeting. And then one morning, as I was out for my twice daily birding jaunts, I realized that the female birds are also getting the short end of the stick. The males always get to have the bright and pretty colored plumage – Red Cardinals, Rose-Breasted Grosbeaks, stunning Blue Indigos, black and orange Orioles and on and on and on. And the females? Dull, usually a faint yellow or a brown color. I feel sorry for my female compadres, I want to buy them a Dolly Parton wig and slap on some Tammy Faye Baker face make-up on their little beaks. Who am I kidding – I need to buy myself a Dolly Parton wig and some Tammy Faye Baker make-up.
I have been doing so-so on the counting carb thing, I’ve lost 10.5 pounds so far. My weight loss would be better, but I have been sneaking candy bars and DQ milkshakes and then burning the evidence as soon as I get home. I should feel guilty that I refuse my spouse that occasional popsicle and then I remember that he gets an extra carb per meal, has no cellulite on his butt and thighs and he doesn’t have to apply under-eye concealer to his face before going out in public. All’s fair in love and war – and this battle of the sexes is just heating up.