Numbers

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My husband, at his heaviest, was 240pounds. This morning this fact occurred to me- my husband and I now have shared a weight! Three- actually- 240, 239… I know that doesn’t seem like an amazing feat for some, but if you have ever been more than 100 pounds heavier than your spouse you understand that feeling of inequity, a little too reminiscent of the Jack Sprat nursery rhyme..
I think my husband is cute. A babe. To steal from Wayne and Garth, magically babelicious. Now, I know, wife blinders and all, but I seriously look at this man with jaw dropping awe. Often. It’s a weird thing, to walk alongside him through the mall sometimes. People look at him, look at me, back to him, at our kids, again at me, to him… The puzzle has not always been obvious. When people meet him for the first time after knowing me a bit, they often have the reaction of, “Wow! He’s cute!” They always seem surprised… I’ve been called his friend, his sister and, early in our relationship, people were more comfortable putting him and his mother together, rarely assuming he was with me. Such a handsome man would never be with a big, fat girl like me. But he was.
To be absolutely clear- my husband has always adored me and worshipped the ground I walk on, just as I do with him. Between us, there has never been a sense of inequity. It is the outsiders that draw my attention to it. But really, it’s my own bias that allows me to so clearly see what they see. My own insecurities are what make me infer the thought processes of those who rapidly look from one to the other, and I assume the worst. Clearly I need to stop that destructive behavior.
Anyhow, being more than 100 pounds was tough. I remember finally passing the point where I ‘only’ weighed 100 pounds more. And slowly- ever so slowly- the gap is shrinking. Right now we are only 43 pounds different in weight – he is obviously the lower weight. Two months ago, however, he weighed 220. He seemed thin and fit to me. Dashing as ever. That is only 16 pounds away from where I stand today. Granted, I’m 4 inches shorter than his 6’1″, but still, I never thought I’d see the day again.
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Ross is my store. I can take a risk on a dress or pants and only spend 15.00. And the Ross by my house? Bomb. No one goes there (but those of us who do make up for it with the volume we buy) , always stocked, usually awesome. We went today to pick up another shape wear running tank* and as long as I was there… Size 14 people. I can’t even… And every 16 I tried on fit! I turned around with the gray dress on and asked if Gigi thought there was any chance at all it might zip. She answered by zipping it up in one smooth stroke. I was last in a 14 at the tender age of 18. A 16 soon thereafter. Of course I had to bring them home. Both dresses bagged for 35.00. BOOM!
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I have found that when I run my belly flops around and hurts. You know how most women need a running/sports bra? Yeah. I need a torso bra. Like one of those bras that cars wore in the eighties. Remember those? What was up with that?! Anyhow, I have found that shapewear does for my tummy what bras do for ‘the girls’! At first I felt stupid for adding another sweaty layer, then I went running once without it. Ouch. My skin hangs down, but it has mass on the end of it- imagine a hammock. It really can shake so it needs to be controlled. Shapewear. One of my workout secrets. Nuff said.
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Yes, I’m obsessed with the comparisons. Thank you for humoring* me.

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I’m getting shapelier. Looks like slightly perkier too- like skin is shrinking. That is nice. 🙂
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*When I typed ‘humoring’, autocorrect changed it to ‘hump ring’. Where does it come up with these things?!

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