In college I gained the proverbial “freshman fifteen” (and then some), and I still hate to see pictures of myself from those couple years. But since then, I’ve settled into a weight I’m comfortable with. And no matter what I eat or don’t eat, I always stay within a few pounds of that weight.

I know this, anybody who read that post knows this, and you’d think that Brad would know this by now. However, I’ve discovered recently that he is adamantly opposed to me buying these:

Delicious Belgian Mini Cream Puffs from Sam’s Club.

Whenever I find these at a party, I usually skip dinner and any other snacks, and load my plate with cream puffs. Twice. Okay three times. But they’re seriously that good. Imagine my drool when we got a membership to Sam’s and I saw these in the freezer aisle. A whole tub of them, only eight dollars.

I didn’t buy them, but made plans to soon. When I shared this with Brad, he suddenly became very concerned for my health. He actually told me I should not buy them. He, a man, told me, a woman, what I shouldn’t be eating.

EXCUSE ME! Have you met my friend PMS? She doesn’t take kindly to being told what to eat. If she wants cream puffs, shut up and move the fuck away from the freezer. Even if PMS isn’t around, I’ll introduce you to my sweet tooth who will tear your head off if you stand in my way. If I want to buy the damn cream puffs, you better not make me feel guilty about it. Because I’ll buy them anyway, and probably a second tub too.

What’s funny is that Brad never seems concerned with the fact that we go out for ice cream every other night. He doesn’t worry that we eat pizza, Wendys and Subway all week long, or that I rarely get my recommended servings of fruit or vegetables. He knows I’m a terrible eater, and he’s never seemed to mind.

Until I mention the cream puffs. Then suddenly he’s all those are so bad for you. And I’m all I don’t care they’re delicious! And he’s all but it’s a tub of cream puffs. And I’m all yeah exactly!

In the store the other day, I mentioned that maybe I’d go check out the freezer aisle again, and he immediately protested and practically called my delicious puffs the devil.

-What is so wrong with the cream puffs babe?
-They’re just so terrible. A whole tub!
-For you, cream puffs automatically equal fatness and lethargy don’t they?
-You know, they really do.

It’s like he thinks I’m going to swallow the tub whole or maybe eat them all in one sitting in front of the tv with a gallon of chocolate milk and a side of lard. No honey, I only do that at parties when the supply is limited and fleeting.

At home, with my very own tub in the freezer, I’ll just snack. One or two at a time when PMS rears her vicious claws or my sweet tooth cries and begs. I won’t gain a hundred pounds, and I won’t be any more unhealthy than I am now. I swear.

But if you ever catch me in front of the tv with an empty tub on my lap and Belgian cream all over my face, you have permission to ban me from cream puffs forever.