A few years back, the doctor suggested I lose weight. He was worried I was pre-diabetic.

The doctor’s advice was to rely on the gluten index. Focus on foods with low GI index and eliminate foods with high GI index.

White rice was my enemy. I ate it with everything. Unmeasured. Gluttonous. I had to make a change.

“I’m cutting white rice out of my diet,” I announced to my wife.

While this was happening, my wife bought a fancy scale that pushed results and trends to our phones. Shortly after my white rice rule, this scale broke the news: I immediately lost 8 pounds.

One might think such an accomplishment was cause for celebration. On the surface, I did receive accolades from my wife. But something more sinister was brewing in her soul.

Friends, family, and co-workers noticed my new figure. I embarked on a whirlwind tour of acquaintances and family, enjoying the compliments: “wow, you’ve lost weight.”

A visit to my in-laws derailed my tour. No compliments.

I dropped some hints at dinner.

“Pass the butter, please? Now that I’ve been on my crash diet, I can eat whatever I want.”

Nothing.

On the way home, my wife triumphantly shared an observation.

“I guess you noticed my parents had no comments about your weight loss. I talked to them ahead of time and asked them not to mention it.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s gotten annoying. All these comments about how much weight you’ve lost,” my wife confessed.

“It’s so easy for you to lose weight,” she complained.

Is that my fault?

I didn’t know that I’d annoy my wife while taking strides to become more healthy.

Not too long before, she scolded me for eating dumb food like Steak-Umm and chicken tenders. And she won’t even let me look at a Hungry Man Turkey Dinner (one of my favorite foods) in the store.

From now on, I’ll plead the fifth: no more letting her know how much I weigh. It’s my business.