We generally get together with this group 2-3 times a year, and it had been a little while since a few of them had seen me. I think they were very surprised at how I looked. The straight hair only made it seem like a bigger change, I'd imagine.
One person, an older man named Gary, was particularly shocked. Gary is a character. He is maybe in his early 70's and he's always the life of the party. He is hilarious and edgy and rarely sober--at least when I see him. Throughout the night, Gary kept coming up to me and saying things like, "Say, you've lost a lot of weight!" or "I gotta tell you, you look so good!" and "You just look amazing!"
It got a little excessive. At one point, I was unable to avoid him and got stuck in conversation. He told me, again, that I looked so great. Then he asked how much I've lost. I'm not shy about that--I'm actually very proud of all my hard work, so I told him 60 pounds (which is not currently true--I did lose 60 pounds, but I gained some back, so I'm sitting at 54 pounds net).
"I bet you feel so much better these days, too!" He said. I agreed, yes, totally.
"Well I bet it was a big difference to get those four big bowling balls off from around your stomach."
{Sound of a record screeching}
Um. Yeah. I guess so.
Now, in the name of perspective and rational thought and all that jazz, I have to acknowledge that it's very likely Gary did not mean that I looked like I had four bowling balls on my stomach before. It's possible he was simply talking in terms of the weight of four bowling balls.
At the time (and even a bit now), I took it as a slam against my pre-weight-loss self. And it stung. Before the conversation, I'd been periodically dashing onto the dance floor, flipping my hair around, you know--getting cray. But after the conversation, I completely withdrew. I could feel my jaw working around like it does when I'm really upset, jutting out, pushing to the side. I couldn't stop it. I just stood next to Pete, quiet. I suddenly became intensely interested in the blank wall behind us, staring at it over Pete's shoulder with my head turned away from the room.
I think another one of Pete's coworkers might have noticed, because she started singing along to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" at me. That did the trick, and I emerged from my funk to join in. For the rest of the night, I pushed the conversation out of my head and had an amazing time. I went back on the dance floor, I claimed more glow necklaces. But on the drive home, I brought it up to Pete. And he told me that Gary had approached him a couple times, saying, "Kate looks so good! I'm going to tell her! I’m going to congratulate her!" And I guess at one point, Gary started talking to Pete about how his wife has gained a little weight recently. She's "packed on about 30 pounds".
"What do I say to my wife to get her to lose weight, Pete?" He asked.
You know. As if Pete had pointed out to me that I was overweight and I, head hung in shame, responded, "Oh gosh, you're right. I'm so sorry, I'll get right on that."
Pete told him he shouldn't say anything; he should tell his wife he loves her. And then Pete walked away. And that is why Pete is the best man in the world.
Since Pete told me about that conversation, I've thought about it a lot. Part of me is extremely annoyed at the idea that this man, after seeing a younger woman lose weight, expects his wife to jump-to and do the same. Because, after all, he should be entitled to a "hot wife" as well.
But part of me gets it. It's frustrating to watch someone you love slip in health. Obesity kills. I know what it's like to want to shake someone and shout, "Turn off the TV and get some exercise!" And I know how depressing it is to be overweight. I'm sure Gary has watched his wife rifle through her closet, unable to find an outfit that fits just right. I'll bet he's seen her withdraw lately, tug her sweater over her stomach when sitting down, swear off swimsuits.
And to guys, who want to fix things, I'm sure that the answer seems simple: watch what you eat and go for a run. But it's not really that simple. I'm going to make a bold, sweeping statement now, and feel free to disagree in the comments, because this is based solely on my experiences and my personal observations:
Almost every woman you meet is trying to lose weight.
She may not belong to a gym. She may not be dieting or counting calories or drinking a gallon of water a day. But she is trying. She's telling herself that this is the last bowl of ice cream; after this, no more midnight snacks. She's waking up and telling herself that today (or tomorrow, or next week) she'll eat healthy. She's pulling on her tennis shoes and going for a walk and thinking to herself, "This is fun. I'm going to keep this up. It's good exercise." She's ordering a salad at lunch with the dressing on the side. Or she's making plans. She's thinking that some day, she'll figure out how to stay motivated to lose weight. She's waiting for her "A-ha" moment.
I'll wager that almost all women, whether we need to or not, want to lose weight. We just don't always know how. I mean physically and mentally. We overcomplicate weight loss, we tell ourselves there's no use in starting until we're totally ready to commit, or we push our weight-loss plans into the future. Sometimes it clicks and we just do the thing. But no woman needs to be told--by her husband or anyone--that she needs to lose weight. We know.
Trust me, I was under no delusions about how I looked
It's not OK. And I hope to God he realizes that it's not OK to say anything like that to his wife.
Overall, this experience made me appreciate Pete even more. He's never once said anything bad about the way I looked before. He still maintains that he has always thought I was sexy--that I've always had nice curves. When I fish for compliments, he'll agree that he likes the change, but mostly because I'm so happy and confident now. He tells me that my weight loss has made him very proud of the fact that I can put my mind toward such a big goal and stick with it. Some days it drives me crazy--I just want him to say, "I never thought I'd be married to such a Hottie McTottie!" But ultimately, I'm very grateful to know that he'll love me and be attracted to me no matter what the scale says.
It was this unconditional love and support that has bolstered me throughout this whole experience (and will continue to carry me forward). I didn't lose the weight for Pete. I lost it for myself. And in the moments when losing for myself didn't provide enough motivation, knowing that Pete loved me and deserves to have a wife at her best did.
So how do you get your wife to lose weight? You tell her you love her. You tell her she's beautiful. You comply with her efforts: you eat the veggies she cooks, you don't complain about the healthy meals, you accompany her on walks, you talk about how fresh fruit sounds amazing for dessert. You celebrate her achievements and comfort her in a non-judgmental way when she fails. And you quit comparing her to younger, thinner women. Because there are things about you that she certainly wishes you would change, yet she still loves and supports you. Return the favor.
