Wednesday, September 4, 2013

A Modest Engagement

So we just got done eating little Irish babies and I noticed more and more the comments that my husband would make about my weight. Each day I looked in the mirror and I didn't notice anything different from the previous days. And of course, my friends tried exceedingly hard to get the idea out of my mind that I was indeed gaining weight. It got to the point where I would stand on the scale daily just to have the empirical evidence if I was gaining weight or not. There was some gain here, some loss there, but it was never something bad enough that I thought deserved the comments my husband was making. After several months of this, I couldn't go a day without wondering if maybe there was some truth to my husband's claims.

Ok, so I had had a bad spell where I was eating maybe a bit more babies that I used to. Actually I had been doing pretty well about not eating a lot, but one day I just gorged myself. That was my fault, I'll admit, but I worked hard to show that it was a one time thing, not a new normal. But then, I noticed when my husband made babies he would put more on my plate than I would normally give myself. As he was on the one serving me I didn't want to be disrespectful and not eat them. Yet, even though he was the one that was serving me, he would still make the comments about my weight. You'd think that someone who felt that strongly about my weight would either go out of his way to keep me from consuming that much food, or at least let me take control of the situation so I could monitor it all myself. But no, instead he was heaping all the meat on my plate, and then still complaining about how much weight I was gaining!

My husband made me fat.

It soon became an extremely sore subject. If he made a comment I tried to tune him out, which then spawned an argument about how disrespectful I was being, especially since he was being so generous, going out of his way to make sure I had more than enough to eat. I mean, how can you spitefully say "WELL WHY ARE YOU MAKING SURE I DON'T STARVE"? You just don't, you know? But I didn't ask for it and who knows? Maybe a little starving would have done me some good...

Now I'm trying to take control of how much meat I'm eating. I've just now gotten down to a weight that is acceptable for both me and my husband. Except if I've had a long day and want to treat myself, maybe put a tiny bit more on my plate than I had in previous nights, or maybe go all out and heap it on but vow not to do that for another three months...we get into another argument. He absolutely won't hear me when I say it's a one-off, not the start to a pattern. "They all start as one-offs", he'll say, "and then you have so many one-offs they'll accumulate and you'll be back to being as fat as you were!" I mean, how can I prove to him that I can control myself and lead a normal life without him bringing up my past? Yes, I understand my past is rocky, but I didn't ask him to help the way he did, he made that decision on his own! I would have figured it out on my own, but he just took it upon himself to serve my meals and look where it got us.

Men...am I right?

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