People are generally kind. and John is one of the kindest I know. There was one time when his kindness turned into an embarrassing moment. He used to love buying me clothes. I wore a size 10 pretty consistently, so clothes shopping easy. However, problems began during the 2nd year of our marriage. Because we went out to eat constantly, and I never exercised, I had beenslowly and steadily gaining weight. He never seemed to notice that I kept buying new jeans, suits, and dresses. I guess he just thought I didn’t like my old clothes.
The third year of our marriage was going wonderfully and Christmas coming. One day I showed him a picture of a white suit I really liked. He said, “It’s nice.” I forgot about the suit and Christmas came and went. For Valentine’s Day we out-of-town relatives visiting, and John brought out a beautifully wrapped present and said, “I’ve had this and was waiting for Valentine’s Day to give it to you.” I eagerly opened the package and was delighted to find the suit I had admired inside. My delight quickly turned to concern when I noticed that the size of the suit was “10“. Unbeknownst to him, I hadn’t worn a size 10 in over a year. I could fudge sizes in shirts and sweaters, but a suit was a different story. I held it up to myself and said, “Thank you.”
Here’s where the big problem started. He said, “Try it on.” I shook my head, no. He insisted, and I reluctantly headed into a different room to change clothes.
I stepped into the skirt and started to pull it up. It wouldn’t go above my knees. I tugged and checked to make sure the zipper was fully opened. It was, and the skirt wasn’t budging. From the living room I heard them call, “Are you ready?” Ready?! Not quite. I stepped back out of the skirt and tried to put it on over my head. After all, it was a slim skirt. I tugged and pulled, yanked and wiggled until I had it partially on. I yanked the skirt hem down until it was kind of in the right place. There would be no buttoning the skirt as it was about 4 inches too small. The hips were so tight I could hardly walk.
I put the jacket on as best as I could and pulled it down as far as possible. I opened the door three inches and stuck my face out. “It’s good,” I said. They all chorused – “Let us see.” I opened the door a bit further and stood in the doorway with my hands in front of my hips. Without thinking, my husband said, “It looks a little tight.” My relatives echoed his sentiment and I turned red from embarrassment. I just laughed and said, “Oh, I’m sure it’s just cut small.” But inside I was mortified. Now everyone in the family knew I had gotten fat.
Later that night he apologized. He told me he hadn’t realized I really didn’t want to try on the suit. I finally admitted to him that I hadn’t worn a size 10 in some time and was sorry. He said he didn’t care, but I cared. I knew I was getting bigger and bigger but I couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Now my problem was out in the open. Instead of doing something about it, I began talking nonstop about my weight, looking for reassurance that I wasn’t really as big as I knew I was. He was reassuring, but everytime he reassured me the words rang false. I knew he was just being kind. I didn’t look okay and I was quickly moving towards being embarassingly large.
After this story took place, I gained another 100 pounds. If I had just gotten things under control then my life would have been a lot easier. And there would have been many less embarrassing clothing moments.
Ever had something like this happen to you? Diane







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