Tuesday, September 06, 2011

Marriage 301, Lecture 491: The Nutella paradox

I'm AT THE AIRPORT, waiting for my flight to Munich. SH already left. Despite all our machinations and pleadings, we could not get the two of us on the same flight, which, in addition to making logistics easier, would have let SH have my frequent flier miles business class seat. He's the one who has to work when he gets there.

I'm going to shop. Although not very much. Have you seen the exchange rate lately? $1.44 per euro. Once again, my eating strategy (as my meals are not paid for by SH's employer) will be to wrap a few rolls and some cheese from the breakfast buffet and hide them in my purse. Yes, in a few years, that will be me sitting with the little old ladies at the early bird special, sneaking Equal and ketchup packs away with me.

The other big thing I am going to do is to replenish the Nutella supply. I used the last of the open jar to make Nutella cookies, which are as good as they sound, even raw and frozen. I have two other jars, but if I open them, I make the Big Nutella Commmittment and I don't know that I am ready for that.

One of the things I had to do to prepare for the trip was pack. Which meant I had to try on clothes. Like jeans. That I had not worn since May.

Oh Nutella. You are such a cruel mistress.

Sure, it's important to keep a nice Milwaukee Roll in anticipation of winter and higher heating bills, but from a fashion perspective, it is not so desirable.

Which means I am not ready for the Big Nutella Commitment. That is, I am not ready to open one of the big jars (including the one-pound jar my mom brought last year) because once that jar is opened - well, I don't have to tell you, do I?

The ideal Nutella situation is the little Nutellas that they have in the Delta lounge in Detroit, where I happen to be, and in the lounge in Munich, where I am headed.

Sometimes, even when you tell yourself sternly that you are NOT GOING TO EAT ANY SWEETS today, you just have to have something sweet that hurts your teeth. Only a little bit.

That's where the little Nutellas come in.

I already have four. From two trips past the Nutella bowl here in Detroit. It is possible to fit two of them in the hand as one casually meanders past, not looking at the Nutella and oh, how did it get into my hand? Bad Nutella! Bad Nutella!

I suggested to SH that perhaps he, too, could stroll past that Bowl of Happiness and maybe take a package or two, but he answered with one of those stupid logical responses that I hate so much. He said, "I thought you were going to try to do something about your Milwaukee Roll. You were just complaining about it last night."

Engineers. They don't get it. The usual response to being annoyed at one's Milwaukee Roll is not to eat less but to drown one's sorrows in Nutella because really, no matter how hard you try, you are never going to have a body like Cindy Crawford's so sheesh you might as well eat something good.

Which is why the little Nutellas are so perfect: They restrict the damage. A tablespoon of Nutella. How bad could it be?

Photo credit: http://www.sodahead.com/fun/nutella-yay-or-nay/question-1958999/

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