The secret underground donut ring

Like most bachelors, when I first met my husband, he lived on fast food. I don't just mean McDonalds and Burger King, but rather different mid-price-range restaurants like Chilis and Unos. Either way, he hardly ever ate a home-cooked meal. I was horrified when I learned that he actually ate those frosting-filled bright pink Zingers for breakfast.

I am the exact opposite of him with regards to the food I eat/ate. I have always been a healthy eater. I haven't eaten food from a McDonalds in at least five years. Even then, it was probably a yogurt parfait. Needless to say, I have transformed him slowly over the past six years into something that comes close to resembling a healthy eater- or at least I thought.

About a year ago, before I had a baby and cut my work hours back to a pitiful 12 hours per week, my husband and I used to alternate the chore of grocery shopping. One week I would go, and the next week, it'd be his turn. I always made the list, though, and he knew better than to come home with ding dongs or doritos. Our operation was running smoothly, like a well-oiled machine.

Until one morning in late spring, when my husband came home from his trip to the store and I happened to notice out of the corner of my eye that he had a brown smudge just outside of his lip, half hidden underneath his mustache. "What the hell is that?" I asked in my sweet, gentle voice. I could tell his mind was racing. He began to sweat and started mumbling, looking for the words to say.

"Crap, should I lie and tell her I sampled a tofu burger from the deli and a little bit of non-trans-fat peanut oil accidentally splashed onto my upper lip?...No, she'd see right through it...should I try to come up with a heroic story of bravery where I saved a young child from a runaway chocolate ice cream truck?...I'm hosed." Then he confessed- "uum, I sort of had a chocolate donut".

HOLY Crap, how long had this been going on? I soon learned that my husband had secretly been gorging himself with donuts from Bashas for months. Even going so far as to purchase them on a separate receipt so that I wouldn't notice. Suddenly, it all became clear. Is this what our marriage had come to? Was I so scary and overbearing that my husband felt it necessary to hide in a parking lot, stuffing his face with cheap, buttery pastries (don't answer that).

Two weeks later, my husband came home from the grocery store with chocolate on his face, but this time, he had brought me my very own donut. And you know what...I loved every single bite. :)