Monday, February 24, 2014

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Snoring, High Cholesterol, and Green Smoothies- Part III

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Mel started asking me questions about my diet.
“How many servings of fruits and vegetables do you eat a day?”
“I eat a peanut butter sandwich every day. Does that count?”
“I don’t think so.”
“The trail mix I eat at work has raisins in it.”
Mel thought about this one for a moment, “I’ll give you half a serving for that one.”
“What about Tristan’s Angry Birds fruit snacks? I eat those all the time.”
Mel gave me a straight-faced look and then shook her head.  “No,” she said. “When was the last time you ate an apple?”
I thought about it for a long time.
“You can’t remember, can you?”
“Nope,” I said.
“What about grapes or oranges? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you eat those.”
I reminded her about how eating really juicy fruits causes me to gag. I reminded her of the time she watched me bite into an orange slice and I start uncontrollably heaving.
“I still think that is really strange.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “I’m the one who has to live with it.”
“What about vegetables. Do you like any of those?”
“Sometimes I eat broccoli,” I said. “I also enjoy candy corn.” 

She didn’t laugh.
Instead she folded her arms and placed her head on the table like I was hopeless. She sat like that for sometime.
Suddenly she sat up, spring like, and said, “I know what you need! A green smoothie.”
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
She walked into the kitchen. I was still sitting at the table. My chicken was cold now. I could see Mel over the bar. She grabbed our green blender from the dishwasher, set it up, and then starting grabbing things from the bottom of the refrigerator, the crisper. She opened the drawers so casually, and I thought about how I almost never open those things. I’d always thought of them as Mel’s territory.
Mel explained to me that a green smoothie was a smoothie with fruit, ice, and spinach.
“It sounds more like a salad,” I said. “Does it have any meat in it? Could we at least throw in a few strips of bacon?”
Mel didn’t say anything. She just glared at me. 

Then she placed in the blender ice, frozen fruit (peaches, raspberries, and few other colors) and what I felt was a disturbing amount of spinach. She blended it all up, shook the blender with vigor, and then blended it again. She poured it into a glass and placed it before me.
The smoothie was thick and green. I sniffed it.
It smelled like alfalfa.
“I can’t drink this,” I said.
Mel sat down across from me. She didn’t say anything; she just looked me in the eyes. She does this sometimes. Gives me a look of compassion and wisdom. A look that says, this is for your own good. A look that says, if you love me, you will do this. A look that says, stop bitching.
The problem is, I am head over heels for her. Which means she has a power over me. Which means I am her bitch.
 I thought about Mel’s compassion for my health. I thought about my own frustrations with losing weight.
I looked at my uneaten chicken on the plate.
Then I looked at the green smoothie.
Then I looked at my wife.
I took a sip. I rolled it around in my mouth for a moment. It was thicker than I expected, a texture closer to ice cream than a smoothie.
“It tastes like grass.”
“Hmm…” she said. “I’ll add more fruit next time.”
Next time? I thought. Yes, there would be a next time. I knew it.
Mel walked around the table, kissed me, and said, “Now finish it. I’d like you to see our grand kids.”
I drank the whole stupid thing. Then I threw the rest of my chicken away. And the next day, I packed an apple and some raisins in my lunch.


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Clint Edwards was blessed with a charming and spitfire wife, a video game obsessed little boy, and a snarky little girl in a Cinderella play dress. When Clint was 9-years-old his father left. With no example of fatherhood, he had to learn how to be a father and husband through trial and error. His essays on parenting and marriage have been featured in Huffington Post Parents, Huffington Post Weddings, and The Good Men Project. He lives in Oregon. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter.
Photo by Lucinda Higley


Courtney Garcia said...

Another great quote: "The problem is, I am head over heels for her. Which means she has a power over me. Which means I am her bitch." Nice.