BoyWonder is a Genius.

I haven't posted in a while, but this is an awesome story. I know at least some of you will appreciate it.

A few weeks ago, BoyWonder decided he needed some long-sleeved shirts to wear when we go out or when he has a show. You know, because he just doesn't have enough clothes (have I ever posted about his wardrobe? Dude has like three times the clothes that I do).

Because he tends to not try things on, and then never returns the ill-fitting clothes, I forced him into a dressing room, where he had the lovely 360* mirror experience. You know, where you see every.single.flaw, displayed in the oh-so-flattering florescent lighting, which only enhances said flaws? I didn't know men had those moments, but anyway...

We buy the shirt. And then, my friends, he starts talking. The conversation went something like this:

BoyWonder: You know, I think maybe I should just cook for myself for a while. I'd probably eat healthier if I just fed myself.

Me: Okay... What are you going to make that's going to be healthier than what I cook for you?

BoyWonder: I'm not sure, but I managed to feed myself for a few years before I met you, and I was in pretty good shape.

So, I wasn't sure how to respond at this point. Left to my own devices, I generally eat healthy foods. The garbage food I make is because BoyWonder asks me to cook it for him, and so I do. I stewed over this conversation for an hour or so, before I started thinking we should clarify what exactly was going on.

Me: So, you think my cooking is making you fat? (Background info you don't have: BoyWonder isn't fat. Or even approaching overweight. He just hasn't been going to the gym lately, so his weight has shifted around.)

BoyWonder: No, not really...

Me: So do you want to start eating some fruits and vegetables with your meals? It might help you feel better, so you'd have energy to go to the gym. I feel better when I eat mostly fruits and veggies.

BoyWonder: Oh, well what I really meant was that you cooking for me is making you fat.

Um... Yeah. He really did say that. The thing is, he's right. And I've been saying it for almost a year now.

Needless to say, BoyWonder has been cooking his own meals for three weeks now. I've been living off ginormous salads, and roasted veggies, tons of fish and chicken and turkey. All the food I love that BoyWonder won't eat if I cook it for him.

I'm down three pounds. BoyWonder is begging me to start cooking for him again. And every time he asks, I let him know I'm losing weight. And I remind him that if I start cooking for him, I'll probably just get fatter. No one wants that, right?

Now, I'm not a completely horrible wife. I did offer to cook enough of what I'm eating that he could have some as well. He wasn't excited at the prospect of salad or spaghetti squash or roasted broccoli, though. I, however have been in crunchy-granola healthy-food heaven.

Poor BoyWonder. Someday, he'll learn that being right isn't always a good thing, and blunt honesty isn't always the best policy.