J-boy

No one could ask for a better husband than J-boy is to me. During the past two years, he has done absolutely everything he could possibly to do be supportive of me while I rode the weight loss roller coaster. I discussed the issue of dieting with him before I started anything. He was agreeable, but I don't think he fully understood what was in store. Truth be told, I probably didn't either.

He never complained about what I ate or didn't eat. He was fine making his own meals. I think he was even glad when I said no more eating out, at least for the time being. He has continually told me that he was happy with the way my body looked, even though I didn't believe him in the beginning. He has planted herbs, stevia and anything else I've asked for happily. He's even tasted a few of my concoctions as I try to tweak old favorite recipies.

He has, however, had one complaint. He does not like to be called J-boy on this blog.

Back in the 70's during the height of CB radios a dear uncle had the handle J-boy, since his name started with a J. My husband's name also starts with a J, and to protect his identity just a little bit, I decided to call him J-boy after my uncle. I thought it was a compliment.  I actually told him this and he chuckled. So, I thought it was fine with him.

All these months later I was talking to one of my nephews about a blog entry in which I mentioned J-boy while J-boy was present. He suddenly blurted out that he did not like being called that in my blog. I told him I wished he'd mentioned it earlier, and that I'd be glad to call him something else. He decided he wanted to be called 65 Mustang Driver because he drives a bright orange one. I said no because that was entirely too much to type and he'd soon be known as 65MD. He couldn't think of anything else, so from this point forward, my dear husband will now be called 65MD. It is the least I can do