For the love of bacon...

Life's been heavy the past few years.  There have been  low times for some family members and friends.  Stress has reared its ugly head on more than one occasion.

Like a trooper, I have coped with this by eating poorly and not exercising.

Well, that hen has come home to roost.

Seems my cholesterol level has crept into the "borderline" level.  My doctor's office gave me this happy news last week after my annual (well, maybe it was a tri-annual) check-up.

I'm nothing if not a worker bee, and I do well when I know exactly what task lies ahead.  Diet and exercise it is.  I can handle that.

But crap, does it have to involve cutting out bacon?

I will not lie.  I love bacon.

The ever-supportive Steve has greeted this news with wild and bubbling glee.  Over coffee yesterday, he began his litany.

"Let's make a list of all the things you can't eat anymore."  He held up a hand and began to tick off my favorite menu items, raising a finger each time.  "Cheese.  Ice cream.  Pepperoni.  Popcorn at the movies."

Each item drove a little dagger into my heart.  Instead of telling him to put his fingers AND his list someplace where they certainly wouldn't fit, I smiled and nodded.  I am, after all, a grown up.

"Oh," he continued, "and you have to eat oatmeal.  Not the instant kind.  REAL oatmeal."

Real oatmeal?  The kind that looks like something my kids used to leave in their diapers?  The kind that tastes like rocks?  (I know how rocks taste.  I used to put them in my mouth when I was a kid.)  The kind that always makes me GAG because it is like forcing a vat of paste down my throat?

Yep, that oatmeal. 

Shortly after this, Steve went grocery shopping, his weekly chore.

"Wanna come with me?" he asked, sounding like a 17 year old trying to procure a prom date.  "No thanks, honey," I said through gritted teeth.

He came home with delicacies to tempt my palate.  Delicacies like golden flax seed ("You can sprinkle this on your oatmeal," he chirped) and oat fiber cereal.  No ice cream was procured.

I am touched by Steve's concern for my health.  And by tomorrow, I'll stop hating him for his low cholesterol.  I want to live a long time.  I've got things to do and want to be around should either of my children ever decide to procreate.  

But really - no bacon?  Shit.