Sad Story

Okay...here is my sad fat story.



Background knowledge you need to know before you read this story:

My husband is from Kansas. His parents are farmers. My husband is the nicest guy ever. EVER. He is also a people pleaser. He wants everyone to like him and is overly nice to people who do not deserve his friendship at times. My in-laws are awesome. I could not have married into a better family. My mother-in-law is a saint. She is perfect and I can only aspire to be half the woman she is (oh and she is super modest to boot). I am extremely lucky, this I know.



My mother-in-law is also one of nine children. That means lots of cousins (and they all look alike - medium build, 5'6ish, blonde, boobs, fit, size 6 - oh and super nice, you want to hate them but cannot). About once or twice a year we go back to Kansas for some holiday or event (a.k.a. tons of weddings). I first met his entire family at his sister's wedding about nine and a half years ago. I was a size 12 then. My weight gain occurred at a rate of about one pound per month over 8 years or so.



Let me set the scene for you:

On a weekend after work one Friday we drove the 6 hour drive to Kansas to go to yet another cousin's wedding. His family is a lot of fun. There are certain people I always seek out at these weddings and we hang out and have a great time. My husband always disappears and I rarely see him because he is always talking to EVERYONE or standing close to the bar (he likes to get his drink on, he likes everyone else to as well).



Here is the story:

We were at the reception of this fairly nice wedding. I am sporting my awesome formal, fat outfit - you know the one - standard black pants, nice top with some print covered with a black jacket because black is so slimming at 289 pounds. I have been dragged to the dance floor by one of the cousin's husbands (I am a bit of a spunky/spazzy dancer and have been ever since that first wedding so now the family loves to get me on the dance floor). The cousin that dragged me out there was the one I loved. He is super snarky and has a sick sense of humor, just like me (we will call him Steve...because that is his name). I would have to say I had a great time and was ready to go home to get ready for the upcoming school week on Sunday morning. My husband and I start the 6 hour trek back home when we start discussing the events of the previous night (since we spent most of our time apart).

He starts to tell me of a conversation he had with a cousin. He is not sure if it was Jeff (a preppy college grad whom has always been very polite) or Steve. Anywho, this cousin was talking about my husband and myself having kids. Here is how the conversation goes in the car:

Husband: He said that we would make great football players (we are both about 5'10 with muscular builds, at the time my husband was about 240 pounds and he has broad shoulders).

Me: Well I can see that. We are big people.

Husband: Then he said if we have a girl, he hoped she doesn't look like you.

Picture me speechless (hard I know). I look over at my husband to see if he is laughing. No laughter. This is not a joke. How am I suppose to respond to this?

Me: What did you say?

Husband: I don't remember.

In my head, I am screaming: What the hell do you mean you don't remember? How do you forget something like that? It happened just a few hours ago.

Me: Who said that? I want to know who said that.

Husband: I told you, I don't remember. It was either Steve or Jeff.

I just know it had to be Steve because he is the only one I believe to be rude enough to say such a thing. Why wouldn't he say it to my face? And who thinks it is okay to insult someone's wife like that? It's not like I had some genetic deformity where a third arm was growing out of my forehead. I was fat. Here is where my legs and insides start burning and I want to yell: You asshole!! How do you not defend me or say something back to that???? Turn this f**king car around, if you are not gonna stick up for me, I will. Being the nice guy does not mean people get to insult me and get away with it.

But I say nothing because it is too late now. But I am forced to sit next to my husband who I am now convinced is a pussy asshole in the car for the next six hours. I try to say nothing else. My mind races for hours over this comment and his lack of response.

After a few days I bury that horrific memory in the deep recesses of my mind. I bury it mostly because it made me lose some respect for my husband. Not just for the lack of response but if somebody said something so hurtful about him, I would have never repeated it to him. That, and I would have kicked some major ass over it. I do not have nice guy syndrome, I have pride.

This occurred in March. I made the decision to start getting healthy in July. These two events were not related (at least I don't believe they are). But once I started losing some weight, like in September, I felt the need to express my anger over this story, so I told best bud. She, of course, was super supportive and I felt much better.

For the most part I have kept that memory buried except for this summer when my husband said that Steve and the family wanted to come to Texas and stay at our house. It is his family (and he let my brother live with us for a while) so I could not say no but I did speak my mind. Or screamed it. I told him that I would never let someone who insulted him like that to come stay in our house. He had no idea what I was talking about. He said he has no recollection of that conversation with the cousin or with me in the car. ARE YOU F**KING KIDDING ME??? Something so crass and hurtful and you don't even remember it? I DO!! And I will for the rest of my life.

I tell you this story for one main reason. Next weekend I am going to Kansas. To a wedding. Of a cousin (not sure which one, and don't really care). Here is what I DO know. I am not wearing black pants. I am not wearing a print shirt or black jacket. I will be wearing a little black dress, heels, and a go f**k yourself attitude. And I must say, I have never look forward to a wedding more (maybe even my own).

This may not be why I lost the weight but it will be a nice little perk. I look forward to blogging that story next weekend so stay tuned.....