Waiting for the Red Cross to airdrop the relief packages

The following is Article 26 of Chapter II: Quarters, Food, and Clothing of Prisoners of War of the Third Geneva Convention.

The basic daily food rations shall be sufficient in quantity, quality and variety to keep prisoners of war in good health and to prevent loss of weight or the development of nutritional deficiencies. Account shall also be taken of the habitual diet of the prisoners.

I’d like to be considered a Prisoner of War.  I’m willing to sit in a tribunal to obtain that designation because I am fairly confident that, if properly explained, anyone with any sense at all would agree that working in the banking and mortgage industry during the current economic climate is like being in a war. I certainly get yelled at enough by strangers when they find out what I do that it feels like boot camp only without the excessive sweating and bad haircut.

Specifically, I’d like the POW designation as it pertains to food.  Ava has me on another one of her God-awful diets.  She read about this one in a magazine. Of course she did – I wouldn’t be surprised, honestly, if one day she came in with a copy of the National Enquirer and insisted tomorrow we’re starting the Neptunian Be-Thin-in-Thirty-Days Diet because the women on Neptune are ridiculously svelte.  I often find Ava to be surprisingly gullible for someone as intelligent as she is.  Everyone always asks why I go along with these stupid, demoralizing diets of hers and my answer is because, quite frankly, I can’t take the haranguing.  It’s easier to just appease her for the few days she’ll actually follow the diet before she caves in and we head over to the Church for cupcakes and lattes. Besides, it gives me something to complain about and I do love to complain. 

This particular diet has a cleanse for the first two days and then you can reintroduce foods into your regular diet as you test each one to see if you gain weight when you eat them.  Sounds stupid, right? You have no idea.  The first day we were allowed to eat admittedly good granola cereal with blueberries. Lunch however was another story all together.  Carrot & Ginger soup.  When I tell you it’s abhorrent don’t think that I am exaggerating. Even Ava thinks it’s like eating death in a bowl. One of the ladies at work suggested I pretend that I am on The Amazing Race and I have to eat it for a million dollars. Look, if there was a million dollars at the bottom of that bowl, I’d happily eat a gallon of the stuff, but there isn’t.  There isn’t even a congratulatory cookie at the end. I literally gagged on this soup. Then she made me eat grass with bizarre vinaigrette dressing and garbanzo beans. I hate garbanzo beans.  I really, really hate garbanzo beans.  I was rewarded with watermelon. Not watermelon flavored ices. Just watermelon. It was not worth it.

I’d like to remind you all that the Geneva Convention article 26 states: Account shall also be taken of the habitual diet of the prisoners.

I have never, nor will I voluntarily again, eat carrot & ginger soup. That is NOT a part of my “habitual diet.” 

I would like to file an official protest. What’s the area code for Geneva?