Husband: “I felt bad when I ate the last piece of chocolate pecan pie.”
Me: “Why…because you didn’t save it for me?”
Husband: “No. I felt bad because it was the last piece of chocolate pecan pie.”
(Sidenote: I make a pretty good chocolate pecan pie. I acquired the recipe in my beloved Texas, where the pecan tree is the official state tree. We take our pecan pie seriously in the Lone Star state.)
I have no idea how my husband could feel bad about the pie because it’s been a sweet-food fest at our house for days on end. Chocolates, toffee, brownies, candy & caramel popcorn, cinnamon rolls, fudge, pumpkin chocolate chip bread, lemon bread, banana bread, cookies-of-every-variety-known-to-man, carrot cake and birthday cupcakes with ice cream.
Of course, this comes from the man who raids the chocolate chips when I’m not around. If he can’t find chocolate, he’ll dive into a bag of shredded coconut. He’s even been known to dip a spoon into the bag of brown sugar if he can’t find anything else sweet.
I’m not lying…just ask him.
For future reference, if you ever want anything from my husband just toss over a Hostess cherry pie. He’ll be at your service right after he chases it down with a glass of chocolate milk.
I don’t even want to get on the scale to verify the damage I have done over the last few weeks. My pants feel tighter and that’s all the proof needed. And yet, it’s almost torture to get out of bed early enough for some quality time on the treadmill.
Sounds like it’s time for some New Year’s Resolutions at the Windley house.
Eating healthier, exercising more, and regular visits to the bathroom scale no matter how humiliating it may be.
No more sugar-filled treats. No more homemade chocolate pecan pie.
And honey…no more sneaking into the chocolate chips and other stuff. If you want to eat something sweet then cut-up an apple. And no, you can’t dip it in caramel sauce.