High maintenance

Of all the statements I've never expected to hear about myself, this one just about takes the cake:

"It's really hard getting you to eat."

Seriously? Because I eat about six meals a day, squirrel-like. Or at least the way I imagine squirrels eat, the lucky little bastards.

But the other night when I thanked Enrico for cooking dinner and added that I knew I'd been a bit picky, he replied, yeah, it's really hard getting you to eat.

I guess it's true. By the time dinner rolls around, I've already eaten, like, five times already! So exhausting, I'm drained from all the eating of tiny little meals. Not to mention all the working, and everything else. It's so much easier just to pour a glass of wine to cut the edge off my appetite.

But of course I have to eat eventually and if all else fails, I'll fill up on thin mints or breakfast cereal or chips with a little melted cheese, mmmm that's my favorite. So to save me from this terribly un-nutritious fate, Enrico either takes me out to eat (but then we have to worry about Toby punishing the pot holders for our absence), or patiently pushes me to identify something I might like. Mac and cheese? Vegetable soup? Veggie burger? Tuna melt?

I swear sometimes I don't know why that man puts up with me.