The Angry Inch(es)

My husband is fat.

See, now I feel like a bitch. Women aren’t supposed to complain about their spouses- we’re supposed to praise them to the skies and support them, right? And indeed I WAS his partner in crime, his cheerleader and his biggest fan.

But that was years ago. Lately, he hasn’t given me much reason to pick up my pom pons. And why?

Because for starters, he’s fat.

He was always a big guy, even when I met him. He’s 6’5 and he weighed about 350lbs. And I know what you’re thinking: What the fuck?? He sounds like a walrus! But that wasn’t the case back then. Sure the NUMBER seems daunting, but he’s a handsome fella. And he wasn’t a ‘sloppy’ fat. He dressed well, carried himself well, and it was pretty easy to fall for him. Granted, the sex was never all that great, but sex isn’t the most important thing, is it?

Yeah, yeah. I know. But we’re talking about BEFORE I hit my sexual peak. Back in my late 20s, I was kind of sick of sex. It had defined most of my relationships thus far and quite frankly, it was refreshing to be with a man who wasn’t constantly pawing at me.

But that was then, and this is now.

Fast forward 15 years and Hubby is now edging at least 400lbs. He may weigh more than that- recently he got on the bathroom scale and it couldn’t give him a reading because our scale tops out at 405. And now he’s become the ‘sloppy fat’ guy. And what’s worse, he doesn’t seem to care. But I DO.

It’s not as if this happened overnight, you know. And it’s not as if I haven’t yo-yo’d a bit when it comes to my own weight. But I DID something about it. It’s taken time and effort, but I weigh less now than I did when we got married. I’m not BRAGGING, mind you- I’m simply stating a fact. At one point, we went on a diet together and we both lost around 40lbs. Of course back then, he was starting at about 375, so his weight loss was pretty considerable. It took him about 6 months to gain back the weight he lost, and it took me over three years.

If I sound bitter and angry, it’s because I am.

See, if my weight (or anything else about me) were impeding my sex life, or my spouses happiness, or my ability to spend quality time with my kids, you better fucking believe I’d do something about it. But he doesn’t care what anyone thinks or feels or says. He doesn’t care that people wince when they see him board a plane because they’re PRAYING he’s not seated next to them. He doesn’t get it when he orders food in a restaurant and the waitstaff looks at him with an expression that clearly says, “Are you SURE you should be eating that?”

And he doesn’t care that his wife has slept in the guest room for the last 5 years, that we haven’t had sex in 10 years and that my subsequent resentment and depression have resulted in my needing therapy and antidepressants. But to be fair, depression and other mental health-related issues run in my family and I may have needed the meds regardless of any action (inaction) on his part.

He lumbers down the stairs in the morning bitching because none of his work clothes fit and his back hurts. Well, lets think about that. Multiple physicians have told him that despite his perfect cholesterol, heart rate and blood sugar levels, he needs to lose some weight or it’s going to kill him.

I repeat: It’s going to kill him.

Does he care? He doesn’t seem to.

And solving his problem would be easy (in theory). Stop eating every night after the kids and I go up to bed. Stop drinking alcohol, at least for a while. In fact, just come upstairs when we do and catch up on your reading. Or get more than four hours of sleep- then maybe you’d be motivated to actually DO something the next day.

“Cut him some slack,” you’ll say. “It sounds like he’s depressed.” Well, DUH. Of course he is. I would be too. In fact, I WAS, I AM and it looks as though I will CONTINUE TO BE. He KNOWS he’s depressed- he just doesn’t care to do anything about it. And you can’t help this who WON’T help themselves.

I’m being selfish, bitchy, petty, ungrateful and shallow- I know. But this is MY blog and I need to vent. Deal with it or GTFO.

I’m tired of dancing around the issue because I don’t want to offend or hurt him. He’s a man- he has the same delicate ego as every other man I know.

Last night in response to something on TV regarding marital sex, he replied ‘Yeah, we should start doing that again.’

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? I have no interest in fucking him! Frankly, I’m afraid the exertion might kill him. He can’t even make it up a flight of stairs without panting and sweating. We STOPPED having sex because half the time, he couldn’t get it up and the other half of the time, he couldn’t finish. Besides, I’m not even physically attracted to him anymore.

My response to him was, “Let’s work on your health first.”, to which he replied, “That’s fair.” Okay, so now all he needs to do is FOLLOW THROUGH.

But the worst part about all of this isn’t the demise of our sex life. It isn’t the resentment, the anger or the growing lack of respect I have for him.

It’s the example he’s setting for our son.

See, Jacob thinks his dad walks on water. As far as he’s concerned, Dad can do no wrong. And that’s how a boy SHOULD look at his dad. Thing is, Jacob sees a man who despite his weight, hasn’t suffered or lacked for anything. And he doesn’t see the things his dad DOES lack, like the energy to play baseball with him in the backyard. And Jacob has his fathers eating habits as well. He can’t tell when he’s had enough, and he uses food to medicate. And then he gets sad because he can’t run as fast as he wants to, or because he’s getting teased by the other kids. And I’ve told him REPEATEDLY that his weight is NOT a reflection of his worth as a person. That I love him and I’m proud of the man he’s becoming. He’s smart, funny, compassionate and so loving. He’s such a good kid.

So now I’m getting REALLY pissed, because hubby COULD use his influence over Jacob to help him get into shape. It’s something they could do together. And hubby has all sorts of good intentions. He announces that “Tomorrow, the two of them will wake up early and work out!”

Yeah. Right.

He gets Jacob’s hopes up, but by the time morning comes around, he has some excuse as to why he didn’t work out as planned.

Sigh.

Okay, I’m done bitching for the time being. And I want to point out that I am not without fault in this situation. Nor am I the only one harboring resentful feelings toward their spouse- I’m pretty sure he hates me too.

But he isn’t doing anything about THAT, either.