A few things
First, why do I have a banner for vaginal odor on my blog? I dunno. Maybe someone knows something I don't? Seriously. Dudes. Can we change the banner to something less personal? I dunno... maybe hairy toes or chronic halitosis. But vaginal odor? C'mon.
Second, I had this really great post about how J and I met and the events that led to us getting married, but as I reread it, I realized that either I'm a really bad story teller, or our love story is kinda dull. Suffice it to say, we started dating when we were 16, broke up five months or so later, lost contact until our junior year in college when my fiance decided it was okay to have a "friend" outside our "committed relationship" (fuckbuddy), and I in turn decided that what was good for the gander was good for the goose and called J. Turned out that his girlfriend had also had the same epiphany as my fiance only months earlier and J had been a listless heap of a man since he'd found out that not only had she been cheating on him, she'd gotten pregnant while doing so. Funny that, because a few months after J and I started talking? My then ex-fiance got his "friend" (fuckbuddy) pregnant. So anyway, my call was timely and I fell in love with him and his gentle eyes and sweetness and willingness to buy me stuff and broke things off for goodsies (i.e. no more waffling, no more accepting ex's phone calls. no more lonely sex. just no more him) with the old and concentrated solely on the greatness that was and usually still is my J. It's way sexier than it reads. ;).
And finally, i guess I'll jump on the "False Advertising" bandwagon and write about weight and marriage. It's such a loaded issue. One woman states that it's poor form to be a 120 fiance and explode into a 160 pound wife. That's not the woman the man married. Well, to that I say tough noogies.
Trust me, barring a serious eating disorder, a woman just doesn't wake up one morning and decide that today's the day she's going to get fat. She's gonna take it one bag of chips at a time, pace herself, slowly cut back on the exercise, increase her carbs, and hopefully (fingers crossed!!) by Christmas, she'll be her BIGGEST EVER!!!! In my experience it doesn't happen that way.
Did I gain weight because I'd finally landed a man? Nope. I gained weight because we went out all the time. I gained weight because we comfort ate together. I gained weight because eating was what we did. I didn't do it to get back at him. I didn't do it because I hate who I am. I did it because we fell into a pattern of eating, eating, eating.
The reason it stays on? It's not to punish him. It's NOT ABOUT HIM OR MY FEELINGS TOWARD HIM. I love him more than I did the day I married him. The weight stays on because I have 3 children. I have days that bleed into others because they are that mundane. The weight stays on because who is going to watch my kid while I go sit at yet another meeting where some former fatty tells me I've got to start loving me. The weight stays on because by the day's end I'm too tired to go to the Y, and going during the day means putting Rosie in childcare, and while I'm not opposed to childcare, I am opposed to the slimey green stuff coming out of your hacking child's nose and eyes. You know who you are!! The weight stays on because we fall back into our 13 year pattern of eating to mourn/celebrate/fight boredom.
Do I owe it to my husband to be as physically sexy as I was the day I said, "I do?" These arms, however lush have held him when no one else would. This soft belly has given him 3 beautiful children. The wrinkles that are slowly appearing are a result of laughing at his jokes, crying when he was inconsiderate, smiling as I watch him. If anything, in the grand scheme, the meta-physical (??) scheme, I am sexier now than I was then.
My husband is proud of me. He thinks I am funny. He thinks I'm smart. He thinks I am beautiful. Would he like for me to be an airbrushed centerfold? Sure. Would he trade me for one? I don't think he would. When we talk about weight he never says, "I'd like for you to have fewer chins." He says, "I'd like for you to not have a heart attack and leave me alone. I need you." He has never once accused me of the old bait 'n switch.
This is not saying I would not like to drop about 50 pounds by say, this evening. That I wouldn't take the magic pill and wake up with the perfect body so I could fit in the perfect clothes. That I wouldn't rather my bra had 2 hooks instead of 4. That I haven't joined Weight Watchers and am obsessively counting points. Because I would (and have). Just not "for him."
