When Mark and I first got together he would make fantastic dinners. Huge spreads with more food than my mom used to make for her giant family. I had never seen so much food on a plate in my life. Mark has always said that he enjoys the fact that I like his cooking. He also said that he likes to have enough food on the table just in case somebody drops in, which does happen once in awhile. I, having been brought up by Lila, was taught to never waste food. As a kid I was constantly reminded of the starving children in Europe. So I would force down my peas and carrots. I would choke down the dried out, overcooked "steak" which was more shoe leather than meat. And when it came to Mark's dinners, I would do the same. Except Mark's food is delicious. It is like the best restaurant food from the best restaurant, only better. I quickly gained around fifty pounds after Mark moved in. One by product of Mark's extravagant dinners, are the leftovers. Having been taught by Lila not to waste food, I would neatly pack all the dinner leftovers into plastic containers and store them in the refrigerator. Everything from the giant salads that Mark would serve, to the desserts and all that came in between. The problem came when I realized that Mark does not do leftovers. Every evening Mark would cook a complete new meal while the food from days before aged in the refrigerator. Sometimes it would age to the point of turning into a disgusting goo. So I have learned to not save so much. I pick out the best of a meal and store that away in the fridge while throwing the rest in the garbage. Then every few days I have lunch. I open the refrigerator, grab all the leftovers, and make lunch. Sunday's lunch consisted of a pork chop stewed in watermelon juice from Thursday night, a chicken enchilada that Mark had made on Friday, and one non-Mark dish, orange chicken from the Chinese restaurant. I am never going to lose those fifty pounds, never, ever.