Fat Wife

So, during the course of that week long fight where we came very close to divorce, I was let in on a little secret that my husband had been keeping all these many years. He didn’t find me attractive anymore because I was fat. At this point, I was a size 16 or 18. Bigger than when we first met, but the same as the day he asked me to marry him. I was confused, and not a little hurt and upset by this revelation. I mean, why would you ask some one you’re not attracted to physically to marry you and spend the rest of their life with you? When I posed this exact question, his answer made even less sense, and just seemed to further illustrate the differences between men and women. He told me he still loved me, and that he would love me at 140 or 440, but that he just wasn’t attracted to me. He then went on to apologize for being so shallow, “but that’s just the way I am.” Huh?

It’s been six years since that fight. It is a rare day that goes by where I don’t think about it. That was a bad summer. We each revealed a major secret to the other, and with it came the loss of bliss by way of ignorance. Then, near the end of summer, we had another loss. About two months after that fight, I got pregnant. I know, he doesn’t find me attractive, but he can bring himself to make a baby with me. I don’t understand either. Didn’t then, and still don’t now, nor do I want to, I have a feeling it would hurt too much, and I am still feeling the sting from the last time I was educated. That was a hard time for me. I had felt like a failure for so long after that fight. Here all along I thought I had found a great guy. Kind of like the guy in the Rikki Lake movie “Baby Cakes”, but no. The baby gave me hope that maybe things would work out after all. That maybe we could get past it all and focus on a new life.