“He Sprouts Veins Like I Sprout Love Handles”

What’s it like to be married to someone who has never struggled with weight issues? Someone who has remained within the same 5-10 pound weight range his entire adult life? Someone who does not turn to food when he’s sad, lonely, happy, mad or any other emotion of the rainbow? Someone who displays consistent discipline with working out and eating healthy?

I’m glad you asked.

Because I’m married to someone like that.

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If I’m trying to be funny, I’d say it’s annoying.

And I’m not talking annoying like you go to the bathroom only to find someone didn’t replace the toilet paper roll and there are only two sheets left.

No, I’m not talking annoying like you have sand stuck inside your bathing suit, which happens to be riding up giving you an epic wedgie, but you can’t pull it out because the entire city of New York is staring at you while you sing “I Dreamed a Dream” on Broadway. No, I don’t know why you’re in a bathing suit in New York on Broadway.

Did you notice the second example was not only annoying, but also embarrassing?

That was intentional.

Because if I’m being real, I’d tell you it’s hard. Emotionally. And mentally.

My husband and I were both previously married (years ago since we’ve been married 18 years now) and his first wife was, and still is, thin. I’ve never known her to be overweight nor have I ever seen pictures of her overweight.

And then there’s . . . . . me.


Since I started struggling with my weight in high school, this is obviously been one of my biggest struggles our entire married life.

He’s well-acquainted with my ways of trying the next best thing. He’s literally poured thousands of dollars into helping me lose weight. THOUSANDS. And has nothing to show for his investment. Heck, I weigh more now than the day I gave birth to our first child together.

He has never said anything negative to me about my weight. Ever. He might privately think things or he may not, but I’ve never heard him say anything.

It’s a struggle for me. I mean the dude has muscles where I didn’t even know muscles existed. He’s never been tested, but I’m pretty sure he has less than 2% body fat.

He sprouts veins like I sprout love handles.

Honestly, it feels lonely. Because what comes so easily for him is such an incredible struggle for me and makes it hard to communicate with him about it.

Wow. This post is definitely trending toward downer. Snort out loud.

I don’t have any answers or profound thoughts. I’m just being real.

P. S. I realize you might be in a totally different situation. Maybe you’re the one who is healthy and fit and you’re married to someone who struggles. Maybe you both struggle. Maybe neither of you give a rip.

Six Months

The past few nights I’ve gone out chasing the sunset.


Today marks six months.

Winter has passed.

Spring has passed.

Soon it will be fall.

I miss you, Dad.

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