I’m Fatter Than My Husband


Till pounds do us part? How one woman’s weight gain strained her wedding vows

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Photo: Google

My antique wedding band, with its square diamonds and Art Deco milgraining, hugs my finger just as it did the day I got married. It’s the only thing that still fits.

 

Since getting hitched five years ago, I’ve packed 25 pounds onto my 5’3″ frame, reaching 165 pounds and trading my size 8s for 12s.

I never thought I’d really “let myself go” (my blood boils at that phrase), but I have lost touch with my old self. Since getting married, I’ve exercised less and drank more — mostly to soothe the demands of my job, but also to hush the bouts of thunderous monotony that come with marriage. Kill a bottle of wine with dinner a few times a week and the calories add up.

My jeans and shirts had become increasingly snugger, but it wasn’t until the zipper on my favorite dress wouldn’t budge that I was forced to confront my new size. I was mortified, especially when I saw a slab of back fat in the mirror.

I had recently read a new study published in the journal Social Psychological and Personality Science that found that marriages are happier when the wife is the skinnier party — and it made me question how my weight gain was affecting my own marriage.

When we think of “the fat wife,” we envision a woman one cupcake-binge away from The Biggest Loser. That’s not me. Much of my fat has settled in the “right” places (my breasts and hips). But what if it hadn’t? What if I’d gained 50 pounds? Or 100? Would I be testing the vow of “for better or worse”?

In bed, my husband, rock-star lean at 155 pounds, must have felt every bit of me — and that made me supremely uncomfortable. I felt big, bulky, unsexy.

One thing neither of us were happy about: my new wardrobe. The clingy clothes that once defined me now hung like artifacts in my closet. When I complained that we didn’t have sex as often, my husband nodded to my yoga pants and said, “Babe, you still turn me on. But I need something more to get me going.” His blunt comment really hurt — because he was right.

I wondered whether my husband could spot my deflated self-esteem as easily as my love handles. On our honeymoon, I’d sprinted bare-assed through our Jamaican villa. Now, after showering, instead of walking around in a towel like a normal person, I change in the bathroom.

Recently, while planning our anniversary, my husband suggested Mexico. “I haven’t seen you in a bathing suit in years,” he said. My brain’s insecure circuits lit up. “How about Rome?” I asked. “I want museums, landmarks, and walking tours!” I actually wanted none of those things. What I craved was the security of nubby sweaters.

We compromised on Sedona. It’s a shame, because I would have loved to dig my toes into white sand.

We’ve made a habit of dancing around the subject of my fuller body. But one rainy afternoon, my husband and I were cleaning, and he found an old photo of me wearing a sheer Cavalli blouse and skinny jeans. “Damn, you were hot,” he gushed. “If you looked like this, we’d have 10 kids by now.”

His reaction to that photo triggered the most honest talk we’ve ever had. He apologized immediately, and I knew he didn’t mean to be cruel. There on the floor, surrounded by all our stuff, I told him I didn’t feel like myself anymore. “I did this,” he said. “I’m so lazy, and I made you lazy.” It had impacted many things, he insisted — even my career as an editor, which was stuck in neutral. True, the heavier me felt sluggish, less confident, and less eager to pursue job opportunities.

For every way we enriched each other’s lives, we had caught each other’s bad habits, too, like a cold. And we knew that without care, we would just keep needlessly passing them around.

That care had to begin with me.

I decided to start at the gym — once a source of stress relief for me — with my first boxing class. The trainer handed me gloves. “You should take off that ring,” he said, pointing at my left hand. “You don’t want to break it.”

No, I didn’t. And with that, I tucked it away, slipped on my gloves, and planted a mean l left hook squarely on the bag.

Marie Claire

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Published by CityFella

Big city fella, Born and Raised in the San Francisco Bay Area. Lived in New York (a part time New Yorker) for three years . I have lived in the Sacramento area since 1993. When I first moved here, I hated it. Initially found the city too conservative for my tastes. A great place to raise children however too few options for adults . The city has grown up, there is much to do here. The city suffers from low self esteem in my opinion, locals have few positive words to say about their hometown. visitors and transplants are amazed at what they find here. From, the grand old homes in Alkali Flats, and the huge trees in midtown, there are many surprises in Sacramento. Theater is alive is this area . And finally ,there is a nightlife... In.downtown midtown, for the young and not so young. My Criticism is with local government. There is a shortage of visionaries in city hall. Sacramento has long relied on the state, feds and real estate for revenue. Like many cities in America,Downtown Sacramento was the hub of activity in the area. as the population moved to the suburbs and retail followed. The city has spent millions to revive downtown. Today less than ten thousand people live downtown. No one at city hall could connect the dots. Population-Retail. Business says Sacramento is challenging and many corporations have chosen to set up operations outside the cities limits. There is vision in the burbs. Sacramento has bones, there are many good pieces here, leaders seem unable or unwilling to put those pieces together into. Rant aside, I love it here. From the trees to the rivers. But its the people here that move me. Sacramento is one of the most integrated cities in America. I find I'm welcome everywhere. The spices work in this city of nearly 500,000 and for the most part these spices blend well together. From Ukrainians to Hispanics and a sizable gay community, all the spices seem to work well here. I frequently travel and occasionally I will venture into a city with huge racial borders, where its unsafe to visit after certain hours. I haven't found it here. I cant imagine living in a community where there is one hue or one spice. I love the big trees, Temple Coffee House, the Alhambra Safeway, Zelda's Pizza, Bicyclist in Midtown, The Mother Lode Saloon, Crest Theater, and the Rivers. I could go on and I might. Sacramento is home.

5 thoughts on “I’m Fatter Than My Husband

  1. was this meant to be inspiring because to me it sounded like your husband wether you were happy with your fuller size or not should have been more supportive. I understand wanting a healthier lifestyle but the reasons just seem a little off. Curvy women are beautiful too.

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