When my husband came home and told me this, I inwardly groaned because I knew that there was no way he was going on a diet unless I did too. A diet is a team sport in my house. One of us doesn't do it without the other, and the scale is the scorekeeper.

To be fair, I probably needed to go on a diet too, but I just wasn't ready to give up my chocolate and sweets, breads and potatoes. From my point of view, there was no reason to. But my husband assures me that somewhere in my marriage vows, I said that when he goes on a diet, I will go on one as well. I must have zoned out during that part.

I would probably be a little more enthusiastic if I actually lost weight while I was on this diet, though.

Each time I step on the scale, it says the same thing. I would suspect that it's broken, but each time my husband steps on it, it says he's lost another two pounds.

My scale hates me.

We eat practically the same things each day, but for some reason he loses weight -- and I just wish I did.

He explains this phenomenon by saying that the reason is that he eats pistachio nuts each evening and I don't. Well, I don't like pistachio nuts. Besides I think that the fact that he used to eat ice cream, chips and dip, and cheese and crackers every night is the reason. Now he's not. He's eating pistachio nuts.

The diet we're on merely makes me tired. Sometimes I'm even too tired to eat (which one would think would help the scale situation).

One of the only things you can eat for breakfast that is not a carbohydrate is eggs. We've had eggs just about every way you can cook them for the last week and a half, and you know what? They don't taste any better than the first time.

In fact, no matter which way they are cooked, they are not enough even to tempt me to get out of bed in the morning.

My husband will be in the kitchen enthusiastically cooking up another batch, scrambled with peppers and onions, ham, cheese. Just the smell of them makes me nauseous. It's simply not natural to eat peppers and onions for breakfast. Ugh!

The kids are not helping, either. Every morning they save the best heart marshmallow from their morning cereal just for me. If I don't eat it, they are in despair for the rest of the day. "Mommy doesn't love me anymore."

So I have to stay in bed until they leave not that that's a hardship. They leave tempting half-eaten squares of Pop Tarts on the table when they leave for school. They come home from school and want to share their treats with me. So, just when the sharing gene kicks in, I have to refuse them.

What I wouldn't give for a nice plump cinnamon roll, fresh from the oven and slathered with butter cream icing on the top! Heck, I would settle for a frosted Mini Wheat. But if I have to look at one more egg, or smell it for that matter, I may do something violent.

If I have to listen to my husband tell me that he's lost another five pounds and that his pants don't fit anymore, I will definitely do something violent.

For now, though, I think I'll take a nap.

Laura Snyder may be reached at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com or visit www.lauraonlife.com for archived columns.