How it feels when your husband says you’re too fat to be sexy
THE scene summed things up perfectly. My husband and I were sitting on the sofa last Saturday evening, him at one end fiddling with his phone, me at the other staring at the TV.
Not a single part of our bodies was touching. Meanwhile, on the television screen, the male and female lead were becoming all steamed up during a particularly racy bedroom scene.
I looked over at Mike, and asked myself when had been the last time we’d behaved like that.
Weeks? Months? A quick mental calculation told me it had been more than two-and-a-half months since we’d last been intimate. Perhaps not that unusual for a couple with young children — we have four sons, aged from six to 11 — but, even so, I was shocked that it had been so long. I nudged my Mike with my foot. ‘Do you know how long it is since we made love?’
He grunted back at me, refusing to answer the question. He clearly wanted this subject dropped, and quickly, but I wouldn’t let it go. I was sure there was something other than the fact we were busy parents at the heart of our lack of intimacy.
Naturally, after 12 years of marriage, and 15 years as a couple, we have, like most people, endured many peaks and troughs.
But there was no doubt in my mind that there had been some sort of shift in my husband’s attitude towards me.
In the past, a mere ‘Shall we?’ as we climbed the stairs at night, was enough to spark his interest and get him in the mood. But more recently, he’d rejected me, even if I had snuggled up to him in bed.
On the few occasions we had made love before our sexual drought, it had always been at my instigation. I couldn’t remember a time when he had made the first move. ‘Do you not find me attractive any more?’ I boldly asked him. He squirmed and muttered half-heartedly, ‘ Of course, I do,’ before swiftly returning his eyes to the screen of his phone. But I had the bit between my teeth.
I came out with the killer question: ‘Is it because I am fat?’
By now, Mike was refusing to meet my eye. ‘Go on’, I nagged. ‘Admit it.’
While a huge part of me didn’t want to know the answer, the other part was desperate to hear the truth.
‘All right, yes,’ he suddenly blurted. ‘I did find you more attractive when you were slimmer. OK?’
No, I wasn’t OK. I was mortified. Heartbroken. Like most women, I have always swallowed the feminist mantra that your man should desire you no matter how you look. His desire for you should remain the same through thick and thin, quite literally when it comes to your waistline.
But after a sleepless night of tears and soul- searching, I began to question whether this was fair or reasonable.
When I first met my husband, I was a size 8, a petite and pretty brunette whom he could sweep off her feet using just one arm. And he frequently did.
The early days of any relationship are characterised by an inability to keep your hands off one another and ours was no different.
He would constantly tell me how gorgeous I was, complimenting my beautiful — and very slim — figure. He once told me about the first time he saw me, walking into a bar with one of his friends. I was a slender young woman of 27. He would always say that from that moment, he couldn’t keep his eyes off me and knew he had to have me. He was green with envy that I was with his friend and not with him.
He went on to engineer several meetings with me. We worked in the same industry and would find ourselves at the same events. He’d always make a beeline for me and behave in a ridiculously protective manner.
Once, he rushed to find me when I had been to the bathroom during a business trip to a race track, worried that I wouldn’t be able to find my way back. His friend didn’t stand a chance. Within a couple of months, Mike and I were dating.
It might sound strange, but the disparity between our sizes — my husband is a big man, who weighs about 15 st — played a part in our relationship. He was my manly protector and I was his delicate young lady.
After four years as a couple we married in 2003. This was followed by the birth of our first son, Jacob, who was born later that year. Thus began a six-year period over which I went onto give birth to Max in 2005 and twins Jonah and Zachary in 2009. Meanwhile, I piled on the weight.
Swapping my career for the role of a stay-at-home mum didn’t suit me. I comfort ate. I found it hard to exercise with four children aged under five, and put on 6 st in six years, ballooning to a huge size 24.
My husband stood by me throughout. He didn’t say a word about my ever-increasing waistline. Though, I doubt I’d have noticed if he had mentioned anything.
I was up to my eyes in nappies, so sex or intimacy was the last thing on my mind. When I went to bed, all I wanted to do was sleep. After confronting him last Saturday, I asked Mike how he’d felt during those years.
He SAID: ‘I wanted to say something about your weight, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I could see you were so busy with the children and I didn’t want to give you anything else to worry about.
‘Anyhow, there was hardly a moment when we didn’t have a baby or child in our bed, so I just tried to bury those feelings and get on with life. Sex just didn’t seem that important. I loved you and our babies and I am not the sort of man to embark on an affair. Of course, I missed it, but I thought if I were patient things would improve eventually.’
And — for a few happy years — his hopes were fulfilled. By the time the twins were almost two, in September 2011, I was about to turn 40.
I didn’t want this new decade to begin as the last one had been spent. I wanted to dance in a tiny, shiny dress at my birthday party, so I set out to lose all the weight I’d acquired during those years of scoffing biscuits and finishing up the children’s leftovers. I ate healthily, ran miles and managed to fit into a sparkly size 8 minidress for my party. My husband was in seventh heaven.
‘You looked so beautiful at your party. Like no time had passed since I met you. All your hard work made me feel so proud,’ he said last Saturday.
He also recalled the moment he was reduced to tears in 2012 when I crossed the finishing line after running the London Marathon.
I cast my mind back to how amazing I’d felt at that moment and remembered fondly how, during this time, we’d rediscovered each other as a couple. I had become much more confident in my new body.
I was proud of how I looked and not ashamed to show it. We’d flirt endlessly with one another, just like in the early days. Mike continued to recall those days with fondness. He