Kevin and Barbara are neither friends nor relatives. Kevin was the business partner of my brother-in-law and since he and Barbara have no family of their own they somehow became regulars at our family gatherings. I’m sure that I must have friends or relatives who are more annoying than Barbara and Kevin but if I do I certainly can’t think of who they might be off the top of my head.
All four of Barbara’s and Kevin’s parents were very heavy and they all died very young from heart disease, so this couple, in an attempt to outrun the Grim Reaper, spend all their free time in search of the perfect diet, flitting from one nutritional fad to another. This would not necessarily be a problem , except that when Barbara and Kevin embark on a new dietary routine they become evangelical in their crusade to convert as many unwilling participants as possible to their new lifestyle.
I’ll never forget when Barbara and Kevin gave up carbs and they got all preachy at my brother’s house when he cooked a huge spaghetti dinner. They spent the afternoon trying to convince the family that we would all be healthier and happier if we gave up pasta, even though, personally, I would just as soon give up breathing.
Next Barbara and Kevin decided that sugar was poison; this led to an uncomfortable Thanksgiving dinner when Barbara tried to convince us that the path to an early grave began with pumpkin pie. Meanwhile Kevin, who gives new meaning to the term “buzz-kill” tried to convince us that we would eat less if we substituted saucers for our dinner plates and then used a new cellphone app to compute the number of calories, as well as the amount of fat, we were consuming.
Kevin and Barbara went back to carbs full throttle when they became vegans; it was during this phase that they showed up for a BBQ wearing matching “Meat is Murder” tee shirts and tried to show us videos of a chicken processing plant. This, believe it or not, was preferable to their Cave Man diet phase when they began to consume staggering amounts of fiber which resulted in some socially awkward moments.
But the worst phase was when they began to eat specific foods based on their blood type. For example Kevin, a “modern” type AB, began to subsist mainly on tofu while Barbara, a “nomadic” type B, primarily ate red meat, her vegan phase long-forgotten. After a short time on this diet they both said they had never felt better and began to preach its life-altering benefits.
They cornered me at my nephew’s birthday party and asked some really personal questions about my health. I stared at them for a long, silent moment. “I feel great,” I said shortly. Unphased, Kevin leaned in and said, “But think how great you’d feel if you ate properly.”
“Better than great?” I asked, and he nodded enthusiastically.
This was Barbara’s cue to mention she and Kevin were now basing their diet on their blood types and that their blood pressure and cholesterol levels had never been lower and their energy levels and libidos had never been higher. “I’m an AB and Kevin’s a B,” said Barbara, “and now that our diets are in sync we feel like we’re 25 again.” She giggled suggestively. “And they say mixed marriages don’t work,” she said.
Kevin smiled fondly at his wife. “Sweetie,” he said. “I’m an AB. You’re an B.”
Barbara smiled back, a tight brittle smile. “No, Darling,” she said. “I’m sure I’m an AB.” She rummaged through her purse and handed me a well-worn piece of paper. “I don’t have my glasses,” she said. “Tell Kevin I’m an AB.”
I looked at the paper and looked at Kevin and Barbara. “It says you’re both type O,” I read. They stared at me. “Really,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
Stunned, they looked at each other. “Well no wonder we don’t feel better,” said Kevin.
“Type O is so common,” Barbara said morosely, but then she brightened. “But we’ll feel great when we start eating properly.”