shortly before i met him, my husband lost some 80 pounds by fasting on alternate days. yes, really. when we met, he was about 220 (and 5'11") and felt really good about himself-- which is apparently why this mild-mannered, nearly shy man apparently felt totally confident offer a girl he'd just met a ride home tomorrow if she'd come out to the bar after the wedding. ummm, yeah. ANYWAY.
by OUR wedding, about 15 months later (yes, really) he was probably about 315. he ate every day; i cooked all the foods i thought would impress him: mac & cheese, lasagna, garlic mashed potatoes, etc., etc., etc. ...
don't worry, i did some damage myself during that time. in the first half of it, i gained 50 pounds. yes. really.
it's been 3.5 years (monday!) since then and, as y'all know, i've lost 70something (70.6 today) pounds. he? has probably gained 25. only, it really wasn't all my fault. i cook much healthier now! there's hardly ever a cream sauce! it's just that, well, he doesn't really eat breakfast, has a sandwich and 3 pieces of fruit during the day, twice as much as i have at dinner, a snack or two before bed, and rarely moves. i mean... kind of at all. he deeply resents anything that causes perspiration. which is damn near everything when you're 340 pounds. or at least, 340 pounds and in no shape at all.
we've all probably heard (or heard of) people who want to tell their spouse, dude, you got FAT: fix it! and if you've ever been anyone's fat spouse, fat kid or fat friend, you know that HE ALREADY KNOWS. and will do something about it when he (or she) damn well pleases. it was on the ck discussion boards twice in the past week-- women worried that their husband's size medium tee shirts showed a lil belly at the hem! worried that he dares to think he is healthy just because he runs 6 miles four times a week, but he eats seconds at dinner! worried that his little fat-n-happy gut, or maybe his little beer belly will give him high cholesterol (correlation does not = causation, folks)! i'm not trying to mock their fears, it's just... i shop for 3xls. my husband declines to walk anywhere, even once when our rent was going to be late if he didn't, he asked me to drop it off, and our landlord is less than a mile away. my husband stops breathing at night with increasing frequency for increasing lengths of time.
i told him.
of course i did! how can you expect me to take my own advice??
but i told him the facts, about his breathing. about his discomfort. about his sadness. about my fears. and then? i backed the fuck off. that was... oh, six weeks ago? or more?
last night he did the dishes. after he finished he lay in bed and i knew something was wrong. he was exhausted. from doing the dishes. granted, there were a lot, but i guess he saw some pictures lately on stalkerbook that didn't make him feel very good.
today, he's fasting. but he doesn't intend to do it every other day-- just occasionally. he does not want to eat snacks anymore. he would like me to make only two servings of dinner from now on. he's not eating breakfast. we're going shopping for heavier weights this weekend.
this is the decision he has made, so this is what he's going to do. it's not my favorite, but he already knows.
i will make him one serving of dinner. i will help him in anyway that he asks. and i will buy a box of those special k candy/protein bars to eat for dinner when he is fasting because i know for a fact it is cruel to cook when someone in the tiny apartment can't eat.
so. what's goin' on??
this weekend my gay uncle is in town. YOWSER. he's been around a lot lately because his sister is dying. it's awful sad. but we're irish! we just DROWN our feelings!
saturday is the big day-- that day he's visiting his sister in hospice and then we're having a big dinner and, oh, the BOOOOOZE. my big plan? lean & green, seltzer like it's going out of style. drinks AFTER the meal. not exactly fail-safe, i know, but it's a PLAN. sunday is the shower for my stepsister-in-law. i expect the food to kind of suck since it's being held at a jersey italian place. probably buffet. certainly open bar. i'm thinking, same deal: lean & green, club soda, one drink, one dessert. it will help that i'm going to wear a DRESS and some WICKED heels that my love gave me for my birthday (i know it says 2.5"+, but i promise it's about 4")-- crazy heels don't lend themselves to running back and forth to the bar OR getting so drunk that walking is difficult. and the dress hasn't fit since 2003.