What’s eating Mr. Hubby?

So, I’ve miserably failed the test of a real desi wife – by several pounds.

Hubby left for the doctor’s office for his annual physical exam the other day feeling peachy and robust but came back looking pale and thinner. He had passed the physical exam with flying colors, no need for concern there thankfully, except in one matter. The good desi doctor was taken aback that hubby had shed a few pounds he didn’t really need to.

Weight loss is a big issue in America, the land of plenty, and everyone wants the skinny on how to look trim and fit without moving a muscle, so doc quizzed hubby, “What’s the secret?”

Hubby, blushing with shame, I’m sure, at the mere thought of divulging family secrets and the fact that he now had a little less of his weight to throw around the house, muttered: “Oh, my wife feeds me brown rice and quinoa these days.”

The highly experienced and friendly doc lost it at quinoa, and being a modest desi knew better than to prod further into the details of the healthy estate of our marriage.

“OK,” he said cutting short the conversation.
“Keep doing whatever you are doing. See you in a year and regards to the wife,” doc said, I’m sure feeling shame for my hubby’s diminished stature, and sent him home, where his late breakfast, a bowl of oatmeal with nuts and raisins awaited him.

I knew hubby was losing it as he pushed away the bowl of oatmeal and said he needed to beef up and asked for hash browns, eggs and sausage as he narrated what transpired at the doc’s office.

“What?” I steamed, “How could you blame me? Shouldn’t I get some credit? Couldn’t you at least tell the doc I make healthy meals with my own hands, not serve you some frozen TV dinners.”

Now, any Indian knows that the test of a real desi wife is not based on the whether the couple loves each other, how many children the blessed union has produced or even how long the marriage has lasted. The true measure of a real desi wife is based on how round her man is, which is based on how many square meals he is fed by his non-westernized Indian wife. And, sadly, after nearly 19 years, the state of our blissful wedded life has boiled down to two non-exotic grains: brown rice and quinoa. The scale has shifted, but not in my favor.

But I am determined to restore my hubby’s honor – and mine – before he goes back for his next annual and before my in-laws get whiff of baked quinoa and sail across the oceans to rescue their son. Because this is America, the land of milk and honey, and we are Americans of desi origin, we will do it the American way: celebrate hubby’s weight loss with cookies and ice cream.

P.S. As they say in America, it ain’t over until the fat lady sings. We are on family vacation next week. That will give me ample time to chew on this weighty matter and find ways to fatten up hubby. But I will need to take a break from my weekly blogpost. Ciao!