My Husband Is A Doctor - But He Refuses To Give Up Junk Food (Published In Woman's Day)

"I'll have the salmon, medium-well with no couscous, and extra grilled asparagus on the side. I'll start with the house salad–hold the cranberries, cheese, walnuts and croutons–and please put the balsamic vinegar on the side. Oh. And I'll have water with very little ice and lemon on the side." The more side plates the merrier.

I'm possibly worse than Sally from When Harry Met Sally (minus the fake orgasm), but my husband, who–get this–is a doctor, is easy: "I'll have the mushroom burger, fries, extra onion rings and a milkshake. And a house salad with ranch." He then turns to me and asks (after 29 years together), "Should we start with the nachos?"

Really? Do you want an extra side of lard with that heart-attack-on-a-plate? 

"I'll have the salmon, medium-well with no couscous, and extra grilled asparagus on the side. I'll start with the house salad–hold the cranberries, cheese, walnuts and croutons–and please put the balsamic vinegar on the side. Oh. And I'll have water with very little ice and lemon on the side." The more side plates the merrier. I'm possibly worse than Sally from When Harry Met Sally (minus the fake orgasm), but my husband, who–get this–is a doctor, is easy: "I'll have the mushroom burger, fries, extra onion rings and a milkshake. And a house salad with ranch." He then turns to me and asks (after 29 years together), "Should we start with the nachos?"

Really? Do you want an extra side of lard with that heart-attack-on-a-plate? 

My husband and I have drastically different eating habits. When I was much younger and didn't gain weight from simply sniffing a cupcake, I ate like a pig. Piles of ribs, potatoes, pizza, burgers. Anything was fair game. My husband is not prone to gaining any weight whatsoever, so his college eating habits have not changed as he approaches 50. I guess the health factor alone is not a big enough incentive for him, and truthfully, my good health is not as compelling as fitting into my jeans.

Here's our deal: I do the shopping and cooking, so I decide our weekly menu. This is a win-win for me as I get to enjoy mindful meals while ensuring that my spouse eats healthfully when we eat in. This keeps my dietary habits in check and balances his out-of-the-house junk consumption. As I became stricter and more creative with my diet, he grew more baffled but has adjusted. Now he's used to quinoa and kale and knows that iceberg is not even a vegetable as far as I'm concerned.

My husband has a sweet tooth, too, which rivals that of any PMSing peri-menopausal woman, and a sliced apple with peanut butter or a Greek yogurt does nothing to satisfy it. As much as I'd like to, I can't keep all sugary junk out of the house and also recognize that he has his needs. 

To solve this dilemma, we've cut yet another deal: He can get his own supply but has to hide the stash. I sort-of know where he could potentially keep it, but I've convinced myself that I don't know and don't care. 

My husband loves ice cream first and me second, and let's face it, who could blame him? This man, love of my life, also loves Sno-Caps, Peeps and Charleston Chews, which are vile, artificial-tasting and chemical-laden, as far as I can tell. What baffles me more than his snack choices is his inability to watch TV or read without eating. For me, the very act of watching or reading is a distraction from eating; for him, not so much.

Equally perplexing is his inability to drive for more than an hour without a snack. For him, the term "road trip" is synonymous with "bags of crap." He's usually too busy the night before a trip to concentrate on packing snacks, so inevitably he panics as we get into the car, and I have to assure him I have snacks. 

"I'm barely going to make it to the rest stop," he tells me as he eyes the kale chips, roasted edamame, nuts and bottled water. I remind him that he's a doctor and that he should know better, but he's completely undeterred. Only 45 miles to the nearest rest stop.

Every so often I sit the good doctor down (the irony!) for a health talk because regardless of his good genes, I feel like he's pressing his luck. I worry about his health and while I believe in good nutrition in general, I'm particularly anxious now that we're not so young anymore. 

Why tempt fate? How many times a week does a person REALLY need dessert? 

Whenever we talk about it he concedes that he should cut back on sugar, but I just can't rely on the sweet promises he makes between cookie bites. 

I don't expect that my husband will start drinking power shakes on his way to work, but he has started to appreciate (and possibly even enjoy?) the little veggie baggies I pack for snacks. So, I'll keep rationalizing that he eats enough fish, fruits, and vegetables to maybe balance out all the junk, and I'll keep hoping that moderation and balance keep him healthy. 

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