On Marriage and Food (but mostly food)
One month in and I think Brent and I have got this marriage thing all figured out. I mean, we’ve been going strong for 30 whole days, how hard can the rest of our lives be?
The rest of our lives; that’s not daunting to think about in the least. Which is why I’m not thinking about anything past this Hallmark movie and bag of chocolate chips that I can’t seem to put down. It’s a good one, too; a rich, Park Avenue bimbo finds a letter to Santa written by a girl who has only one wish this year; for her dad to meet someone as great as her mom was. Did I mention that dad is the man w/ the heart of gold who runs a soup kitchen in his spare time w/ a sassy gay chef who wants to help the trust-fund lady snag her man? I’m not one to get wrapped up in these cheesy movies (#lies), but I’m pretty invested in this one.
So here’s the thing no one tells you about marriage; are you ready kids, this is big. Okay, the thing about marrying someone is this: it’s exactly the same as when you were dating that someone. You wake up together. You go to bed together. You eat Taco Bell together. You get mad when he leaves dishes in the sink. He gets mad when you steal the cat off his lap. It’s a real delicate dance.
I’m hesitant to use the word funk b/c of its negative connotations, but I can’t help but think that’s exactly what I’ve fallen into: the marriage funk. I didn’t plan on keeping my gym membership after the wedding b/c it was more expensive than my car payment, but I also didn’t plan on leaving the gym and all traces of a healthy lifestyle behind. Kettle bells? Dead lifts? Vegetables? Haven’t seen these things in the past 30 days. They’ve been replaced by hot chocolate and marshmallows and candy canes. It was a pretty inevitable shift what w/ the holidays and working that pastry life.
This post was intended to be about marriage, and now it’s morphed into one about food. If I woke up tomorrow with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn't be more surprised than I am now.