Have you ever broken up with someone...over food? A friend? Or family member? Or a (ahem)...lover? I think I'm gonna have to break up with a friend. A guy I've known for three years who is EXACTLY like Sheldon on Big Bang Theory. Endearing and funny because of what he isn't...empathetic, humble or skilled at reading social cues. And who always chooses accuracy above tact. In fact, to protect his privacy, let's just call him Sheldon.
Red Flag #1 went up a couple of years ago, when Sheldon and I decided to watch a movie at my house. Which meant a trip to the grocery store for movie snackage. Sheldon picked out a pint of Haagen Dazs. I picked out a package of sugar-free Pepperidge Farm Mint Milanos. Halfway into the movie, we'd both polished off our respective vices. Which is why, as the credits rolled, I was shocked when Sheldon looked over at my empty bag and scolded me. In his most chastising tone, he spewed "I can't believe you ate that whole bag, EJ!" As he was holding the dead Haagen Dazs carcass in his own hand. I don't remember what happened next because I suddenly had tunnel vision as every fiber of my being was screaming "Get outta my house!" I didn't say it, of course, but if looks could kill, he would have been buried next to his Haagen Dazs.
My reaction was so strong...and vile...I was sure he would never make the same mistake again. Until he did. At the wedding I recently attended in San Diego. But before I get to that, let me give you a little back story. Y'all remember my Olive Garden epiphany? When I went to the OG with a friend and read the nutrition info for the first time? And found out, to my horror, that my usual meal of two bowls of soup, 3 or 4 breadsticks and the sugar-free desert was 1,660 calories! After that, I cut out ALL breadsticks (farewell, garlicky sticks of gladness) and the blankety blank sugar-free desert, and pledged myself to two bowls of pasta e fagioli and an unsweetened ice tea with extra ice, please. For the grand total of 260 calories-per-chain-Italian-restaurant-visit. I was SO proud of myself for being informed and for finding a way to eat healthier even when eating out.
Well, Sheldon didn't agree, obviously. The last time we went to the OG together, I proudly ordered my bowl o' fagioli. And flirted with the waiter as Sheldon ordered a 3,600 calorie plate (as I kindly pointed out to him on the leather bound nutrition guide) of pasta. No problem, right? Especially as Sheldon is 6'5" with 15% body fat and a jaw line that could give you a paper cut.
But since that day, the Olive Garden has come up in every.single.conversation between the two of us. As Sheldon goes into full-on-lecture mode about the evils of all things OG. Just when I think it's safe and we're going to spend the evening talking about his new girlfriend with the peach fuzz mustache, here we go again. What was once a bi-weekly or monthly outing has been blown into an argument of epic proportion. And then...on the day of the 7-hour wedding reception/dance off...it all came to a head. When I looked down to see a text from Sheldon that went something like this:
"I've been doing some work for a nutritionist and thought you would like to know that if you eat nutrient dense foods first, you'll fill up faster and won't need to eat junk food."
My reply: "Thank you Sheldon! I've never heard that! You've just changed my life."
Sheldon: "You should watch her video clips online. I think you'd learn a lot from it."
Me: "No thanks. I know all about nutrition."
Sheldon: "Well, if you know better, why do you choose to go to Olive Garden?"
Oh no, you di'int just say that!
The texts spiraled out of control as I said some pretty nasty things. But no remorse or emotion from him. In his true Sheldon way, he sent a few more texts and then ended the conversation with an obtuse and upbeat "I'll see you when you get back!"
I haven't returned his calls or seen him since. I don't know what to say. I mean, we had this conversation after the Cookiegate incident two years ago. Do I remind him that I minored in Dietetics and Exercise Sport Science in college? That I researched and wrote scripts for an educational film company on those very topics for two years? That I taught nutrition at the high school and college level for a few years after that? Maybe if I explain to him that I've been fat for more than half my life and poured through every book ever written on diet and exercise?
And then it dawned on me. Sheldon really does think I'm fat because I don't know any better. Because I'm uninformed. I want to shake him and say "Do you think Oprah Winfrey is fat because she doesn't know better?!?"
How do you deal with the people who are convinced...convinced...that being overweight is that simple? That you can just push yourself away from the table? Or stop overeating? Or that you're fat because you don't know any better?
So, I turn to you, my beloved readers. Who read in California. And Texas. And far-away places like Iowa. And New York and New Jersey. And Germany. And every place in between. What say you? Break up or make up?
Do you have this same button? And someone in your life who makes you crazy anxious about food? Funny or sad, resolved or un-, past or present...I would LOVE to hear from you. We can start a support group. With t-shirts and everything. On the back they would read "Someone I know went to Haagen Dazs and all I got was this lousy t-shirt."