“Fine," he said, "Let’s order pizza, but only if you promise to eat half.”
Half? Of an entire pizza? I could probably eat one slice, maybe two. I don’t have that much longer until the wedding, you know, and I have, ohmigod! So much more to lose...
“If you can’t eat half of it,” he was threatening, “then we can’t order pizza.”
Why not? We can just eat what we want and put the rest in the freezer.
*pause* Then he chuckled, which evolved into uncontrollable laughter.
“Sarah, obviously, you’re not a guy, which is a good thing, but obviously, you’re not a guy. A guy doesn’t order a pizza, eat a few slices and put the rest in the freezer. He eats the whole thing, and at the very worst, a few slices stay in the box, on the counter overnight, for breakfast tomorrow.” He was laughing. “Put it in the freezer? No guy does that.”
So we’re not getting pizza?
Clearly, I will never understand guys and pizza. Ever.
We compromised and did end up getting pizza, because only a very stupid guy would get between a girl and her craving. But instead of ordering an entire pizza, which would have blown my W diet in one night by finishing the whole thing between the two of us, or had pizza for two meals in a row, in which case, I still kill my diet, just in a slower, more painful way, we decided to work for it. We hauled ouselves off the couch. We trudged up the hill, on foot. And we got pizza from Frankie & Johnnie’s.
Thank god for thin crusts and by-the-slice. Mushrooms, of course, since they’re not fattening.