We went to The Balsams in New Hampshire, which has become our favorite go-to for vacation. We went bike riding, kayaking, swimming, and played golf. Meals are included in the cost, and the food is incredible. Which, in retrospect, was both good and bad.

Lou has become very serious about body building, so eating normal meals is not so easy anymore, as he is on a strict diet, with exact portions of exact foods. When he started working with his personal trainer, and got the nutrition plan, I bought the foods on the list and cooked them for dinner. But I wasn’t measuring out exact amounts to put on his plate, and I wasn’t preparing other meals for him. I figured the diet plan was a guideline. Guess I figured wrong. Lou was frustrated because he wasn’t getting the results that he wanted, and blamed me, saying I wasn’t supporting him. I asked what more he thought I should be doing. Now I have a food scale, a shopping list, a ton of plastic containers, a roll of masking tape, and a black magic marker.

When he’s home, I cook dinner fresh and plate his food measured out to the ounce. After dinner, I prepare and weigh the food for the next day, store it in containers labeled for each meal. If he’s traveling, I make up as many meals as possible for the week, and he takes them with him in a cooler, and books a hotel room with a refrigerator. Hmmm, if he starts seeing results now, I wonder if I will get the credit like I took the blame? Doubt it. I’m getting used to the routine, but I am getting sick of chicken, broccoli, rice, and spinach.

For the most part, I eat what he eats for dinner, because I don’t want to make different meals. But The Balsams was a vacation, and I did not feel the need to adhere to his diet, even though he was still pretty much eating clean. Anjelica liked being with the kid’s camp group, so she was at their table, and Lou and I dined together. Throughout the meal, he kept commenting on what was wrong with what everyone, including myself, was eating, despite that I chose mostly the same things he was having, with some exceptions. God forbid I should put a little butter and sour cream on my baked potato. He’d tell me how he just can’t do that anymore.

Then, I got dessert. There was a huge buffet table with tons of decadent, delicious creations, and all I chose was a single brownie. I brought it back to the table, sat down, and took a bite from my fork. Lou pushed his chair back from the table in disgust, spewed out a proclamation that he could not stand to watch me eat that, got up, walked away, and left me sitting alone at our intimate table for two in the middle of the restaurant.  My eyes welled up instantly. As much as I love brownies, I no longer wanted that one.  I looked down in an attempt to hide my face so other people wouldn’t see me crying as I left the dining room. I went for a walk and found a place to sit alone. I kept thinking he would come find me to apologize, but he didn’t even look. When I found him, the only statement with any resemblance to an apology was, “I’m sorry, but watching you eat that was actually making me sick, so I had to leave the room.”

I decided that rather than being at odds with him and his diet, I would start working out and dieting seriously as well.

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