Possessive...

So, I'll admit, I can be a little... possessive... when it comes to food. I call dibs on food the way a teenage girl might call dibs on her crush, or the way people call shotgun for a car ride. But sometimes this possessiveness gets a little out-of-hand. And before I go any further, I will say right now that I owe my husband an apology for expecting him to be a mind-reader. When I'm not eating, I'm usually thinking about what I'm going to eat next, I like to call this planning ahead. So this morning on my way home from my 90 minute swim practice, I was daydreaming about the bagel and oatmeal I was going to enjoy when I got home. I opened the fridge, happy and expectant, only to have my hopes and dreams of a bagel crushed because MARK ATE THE LAST ONE! And, that's perfectly fine, perfectly normal that he ate the last bagel (I finished off the cereal the night before, so really he had no other breakfast choices). But I was MAD! And DISAPPOINTED! I had been looking forward to that bagel since 4:25am when I woke up. And a piece of me wondered why Mark didn't leave the bagel for me - after all, I was the one up early and working out while he was sleeping - I NEEDED the extra fuel.

And then when I arrived home from work, famished (of course), I was already planning to have toast with peanut butter. But when I opened the fridge, the bread I was going to use was MIA. I was mad again - because there also wasn't enough of my favorite bread to make a sandwich for the next day. But again, I never told Mark what I was planning on eating, so how would he know.

Lesson learned: just because my workouts may be longer and more frequent than Mark's, does not give me an extra right over the food in our fridge. And Mark will never know what I am planning on eating unless I tell him.

Bottom line - I think about food far more than what's probably normal.. And Mark is a saint for putting up with me.