Say What?

Aaron can eat whatever he wants; something I hate love about him. Because he spends so many hours each week training and exercising he can eat whatever (and A LOT of whatever.)

I am quite the opposite. If I even smell food my pants get a bit snugger. Because of that I have to savor any type of junk food I buy. For example, I might buy a pack of peanut butter cups and take a bite out of one and put it back in the cabinet for later. Aaron, on the other hand, might buy a bag of chips and eat the whole thing in a sitting. Honestly, the cost of feeding Aaron while he's training is astronomical. I'm not complaining because he's definitely is easy on the eyes, but what I do HATE is when he eats MY stuff.

I know, I know, in marriage there is no "mine" or "yours." But, when it comes to food there certainly is a "mine" and a "yours." Often I will walk over the cupboard, quite excited for the rest of my whoopie pie only to find it has turned up missing.

J: Aaron! Where is my ________?
A: (innocently) Oh, it's been in there for a few days I thought you didn't want any more of it.
J: Of course I did. Do I need to start hiding food from you? Don't eat my stuff!

So tonight, as I was skulking around online and eating my pretzel rods, I had a thought, "You know Jessi, some Pepsi would be great right now." It's MY Pepsi and I purposely drink right from the liter just to mark my territory. As I walk over to the fridge, completely ignoring the concept of a glass, I lift the 2-liter-bottle and find it's a bit... light.

J: (screeching) Aaron!!!! Did you drink MY Pepsi? (completely pissed because he asserts that he isn't a Pepsi guy, he's a Coke guy- I'm a Pepsi girl.)
A: (startled... standing in the shower- fixing the window trim) Uh, I had a sip.
J: A sip? A SIP?! You took more than a sip... YOU TOOK A FREAKING CHUG-A-LUG!

I am turning into my parents. Who says chug-a-lug? In this argument, I immediately lost all credibility when I said chug-a-lug.