Salad for tea.

Salad for tea.

by Shelley Miller

I wouldn't describe my husband as fat, nor would I describe him as fit. Put politely, he has a bit of a veranda over the toy shop like a lot of men his age, which bothers him but not me. "For health reasons, I'd say yes," I answer tentatively in response to his regular threat of, "l must lose half a stone and exercise more."

I wouldn't say he looked well-fed, just content.
So on average about 3 times a year he decides to put his dinner on a smaller plate thus making it look as if he has a generous portion. One time I couldn't help noticing that his dinner, dished by himself, sat half a foot high on his smaller sized plate and slid off the edge leaving a circle of mashed potatoes, peas and gravy on the tray.

At another time he would say "I might have a salad for dinner," So I prepare a healthy salad. By the time we sit down to eat he has added his own version of a 'healthy salad' to the smaller sized plate. Bread and butter, salad cream, mayonnaise, cheese, potatoes, olives and extra creamy coleslaw.

"I don't understand it, the only thing I eat is what I have here at home," he says, stepping despondently off the bathroom scales and sliding it back in place distractedly. “I have my porridge for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch and whatever you cook for dinner yet I've put on a pound!" He exclaims.

“It’s baffling," I offer by way of consolation.

I recall many a phone call from my husband from the Tesco Metro around the corner from his workplace. "I'm in Tesco's, do you need anything?" He would ask.
Once every 5 weeks, for 1 week, my husband uses my car for work. He is a tidy man by nature so has created a plastic bag bin in the front footwell. I'm sure you can guess of its contents.

I've often said it's the face that attracts you to a person but it's their heart and mind that you grow to love.

Copyright Shelley Miller