Friday, April 15, 2011

You're Fat.


{No, not you. Me.}
 It has become clear that there are two schools of thought at our house: Those Who Think Rudi is Fat and Those Who Think People Who Think Rudi is Fat are Crazy. As the person who lives at our house and is primarily responsible for feeding, attempting to keep the dog hair from suffocating us grooming, cleaning up after and walking Rudi, you can imagine I take some offense to this name calling situation.

My husband, naturally, believes Rudi is fat. Obese, even. He even has the nerve to say things like, "Hey big fat doggie," while patting her backside and because she neither speaks nor understands the English Language, she loves him anyway. But I understand and speak English, and I'm not amused. The Rudi is Fat Situation often comes up whenever my husband goes to the grocery store. {If you're doing all the cooking around here, you might as well buy all the food, right?} I'll ask him to buy dog food and he always returns with DIET dog food. The bag says things like "Fit and Trim" or "Sleek and Agile" or "Weight Management" and if Rudi had thumbs or could read, she wouldn't be excited about it. Because she would know that those are all kind words for: You're fat and you need to go on a diet.

As the only other woman who lives at our house, I feel the need to defend Rudi's stature in conversation. Eventhough every winter we scale back drastically on our walks and when the "Winter weight" begins to creep on, denial is very important. Well, that and sweatpants.

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