Being fat has colored every aspect of my life. My whole life. Even when I wasn’t fat, I THOUGHT I was fat and I acted as if I were. I dressed a certain way. I behaved a certain way. I’ve held myself back from doing things I wanted to do, from taking chances, from reaching. One of the things I never really reached for was love. I never believed there was anyone out there in the world who would or could love me, fat thing that I am.

Well don’t ask me exactly how it happened but about 4 years ago, I met and fell in love with a wonderful man. Even better, he feel in love with me. I admit the first 500 or so times he told me he loved me, I didn’t really believe him. I never believed anyone before (not even Mom & Dad) so why would I believe him?

But he kept saying it, and he kept coming back. He drove 300 miles every Friday afternoon to see me and back to his home another 300 miles every Sunday evening. He never missed even one weekend the whole time we dated.  He asked me to marry him. He took care of me when I was sick and still he came back.

So I married him. He moved me here to Ontario and has supported me for three years while we worked thorough all the immigration stuff and me trying to get a job here. He tells me at least 100 times a day how much he loves me. He shows me how much he loves me by working and bringing home his paycheck and never ever giving me any reason to doubt his love and constancy.

So can anyone out there explain to the poor guy why I am still a quivering bundle of insecurity? I started a fight this morning because I found out he doesn’t tell me about things like the company Christmas party and the company picnic. I snapped because the ONLY explanation I could think of was that he’s ashamed to be seen with me.

If you knew him, you’d know how impossible that is. His mind doesn’t operate that way. If it did, he wouldn’t have married me. It’s not like I was skinny when we got married–I essentially weight the same now as I was then.

When I finally got enough of a grip on myself to listen to him, he was able to articulate that he doesn’t like those kinds of functions and isn’t comfortable at them and he didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to try to nag him into going. Now THAT makes sense to me.

So why did I go to that other ugly place? That COMPLETELY IMAGINARY place where he has betrayed me and I’m the martyr?  My insecurity is not attractive and it’s the ONLY thing that ever causes fights between us.

It’s because I’m fat. I’m insecure about everything and everyone and it isn’t going to change while I’m fat. It isn’t even about him or anyone else. It’s about me. I’m the one who is ashamed.

I think I’m getting the surgery.