My wife came home with this book today:
The Sneaky Chef: How to Cheat On Your Man (in the Kitchen): Hiding Healthy Foods in Hearty Meals Any Guy Will Love!
Forget the fact that the title includes two colons, one set of parenthesis, an exclamation point, and 22 words.
Doesn’t this book strike you as a little sexist?
It assumes that the woman in the relationship will be the designated chef while simultaneously denigrating the nutritional choices of men and implying that deceit is necessary in order to get them to eat well.
I don’t like it.
I already spent an entire childhood dodging my mother’s ham-handed attempts at slipping vegetables into the mashed potatoes.
I don’t need Missy Chase Lapine making adulthood just as annoying.
