Back all those years ago when my husband and I were courting, I found it charming that he loved Fritos. What a great, unpretentious guy. He introduced me to Lunchables, which if you are not familiar with them, well, here:
Such a discovery!
Today, I would as soon eat dog food.*
Isn't that the way with courtship? The things that first attract you.
Getting back to the freezer. Every time I pull open the door Mark's corn dogs call out to me. They call out: "Please throw us away. We take up precious space and we're unhealthy and fattening and cheap and disgusting except at a rodeo or state fair. Also, your husband didn't re-seal the box so we're all freezer-burned."
But it seems both wasteful and disrespectful to throw away a spouse's corn dogs.
Mark and I argue about food constantly. What comes into the house, what goes into the kids' lunch boxes, the tearful, years-long battle over hormone-free vs. cheap generic milk, canned soup vs. homemade.
Perhaps, I could simply forbid him to bring Pop-Tarts and off-price Jimmy Dean sausage into the house, though I don't know how you "forbid" an adult. Or, I could do all the grocery shopping myself.
Hmm. Dictator or Betty Draper.
I do think I'm gradually winning the war, though Mark has been incredibly, maddeningly stubborn. This is certainly not the rout I observe with envy in the refrigerators of my friends.
Maybe they're just married to girly men