You snatch bags of potato chips from me, you make sure I go exercise when I’m sure you’d be happy if I came home early and helped with our children, you limit certain liquid indulgences to the weekends, and you encourage me to go low on my second helpings.
Sugar–well, that’s your weakness, so I need to encourage you there a little more.
Although I might not always dig it at the time, I like it when you look out for me. I’m 39 now and if I continue some of my habits, I won’t make for a very attractive 70 year old.
I love you because you care about whether or not I’m becoming a lard ass.
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