Tuesday, December 6, 2011

~* Did You Just Call Me Fat? *~

No, honey, I didn't call you fat.

Believe it or not, Mr. M got super-mad at me last night because he thought I called him fat. That's right, folks. HE thought SHE called him fat.

My husband is a big guy. Not big as in fat, big as in Hulk-like. He's not too tall- 5'11"- but he's about 260-265lbs. He has a 51" chest with a 36" waist. He has legs thicker than my waist and he can bench press a small village. He recently gained some additional strength with the help of some supplements that were being sold through the gym I work at. One of our trainers had teamed up with a pharmacist to create some really amazing products that produced almost instant results, and Mr. M was one of their "test dummies", I guess you could say. The product was working fantastically, and Mr. M was happy as could be. But then the trainer quit suddenly, leaving the gym with no supply. When Mr. M got a hold of him, he had some story about why he couldn't supply the product anymore, leaving more than just my husband hanging.

Mr. M is a harsh critic of his body. Because of the way he is built, he is constantly being weighed and taped, even though he has not once broken tape. Now, he's afraid that he will. He's spent a lot of time lately criticizing his body and stressing about his weight and shape. I usually let him go on about it, but quite frankly, I tend to tune him out. I love his body. I wouldn't have married him if I didn't.

Yesterday, he passed another PT test (with flying colors), so when he got home, he treated himself to 3 beers and popped open a pint of Ben and Jerry's. I said to him, about halfway through the pint, " Just put it down, babe. You know deep down that you don't want to finish that". WAY wrong thing to say, apparently. He got mad. But not yelling mad. Pouting little kid mad, which makes me mad, so things got stupid really quickly.

Let me explain- I said what I said because I hate contradictions. If you're gonna bitch because you feel fat, DON'T sit down with a pint of ice cream. It doesn't make sense. Like the obese people who get their Big Mac value meals super-sized, and then get a Diet Coke to wash it down with. It doesn't make sense. I tried to explain that to him. I still don't think he understands. Granted, it probably wasn't the smartest thing to say, but I'm tired of listening to him bash himself and then eat junk like that. IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.

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