Clothes encounters of the larger kind

~ Husband-and-wife journalists Bob Miller and Callie Clark Miller share the same small house, tiny bathroom and even the same office. But not always the same opinion. The Southeast Missourian sweethearts offer their views on every-day issues, told from two different perspectives.

SHE SAID: At a recent family gathering, a kindhearted cousin-in-law commented on how well marriage was treating Bob (sly glance toward the tummy area).

Bob handled it well outwardly, but I could see the bubble of volcanic indignation pop and then begin to spew forth -- all over me.

Yep. Turns out it's my fault he's added a little extra padding to his middle. (For those of you with mundane enough lives to read this column regularly, now would be the appropriate moment to recall it's my fault he leaves his shoes in the walkway too.)

It's my fault he's gained weight because I cook. More specifically, I bake.

Nearly every Sunday, stepson Drew and I find ourselves elbow-deep in flour, with sugar granules covering the kitchen floor and chocolate smears on our faces.

Bob usually eats more than his share of the unhealthy fruits of our labor (and that's my fault).

I suspect Drew may share this opinion, because last week, while making blondies and peanut butter cookies, he recited the story of the little red hen to me and announced that Dad shouldn't get to eat the food if he doesn't help us make it.

Either Drew's has his dad's health in mind, or he just wants more sweet treats for himself. I'm not sure which.

There's also the gym membership issue. At some $300 a year, the membership is a little expensive for a household that finds it difficult to keep a bank balance in the black. Especially when we own an exercise bike, weights, workout videos and live near a park that is perfect for jogging.

If Bob were already doing those things on a regular basis with no result, I would probably support the gym fees. But he does a little here and there -- halfheartedly, I might add. Much like the way he tries to stop eating my cookies.

Still, I shouldn't judge. After all, it's my fault.

(S)HE SAID: No, wait this is 'she said' continued. Know why?

Because once again it is past deadline and my esteemed husband has failed to write his part of the column on time.

This week's column topic was his idea too, so it's not like I've forced him to write about something he has no interest in.

With that in mind, I will proceed to write his part of the column, using arguments and opinions he would no doubt express should he have taken the time and initiative to complete his work. Here goes:

Callie is always baking. She makes terrific cookies, so terrific that I can't help eating about 10 of them. Despite my past passive-aggressive behaviors, I now realize that my weight gain is not her fault. I take full responsibility. Also, I should not leave my shoes in the walkway. That is my fault as well, not Callie's nor the vacuum cleaner's.

Callie is right. In fact, she's always right. About everything.

I should make the best of the free exercise equipment we have at home. Also, I should spend less time watching sports and more time cleaning. And I should take my cute and talented wife on a shopping spree at the nearest scrapbooking store.

Bob: See what happens when you don't exercise your right to free speech?

cmiller@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 128

bmiller@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 122