I’m feeling really devastated right now, and could use some solid, grounded advice. The big picture: last night I finally talked to my husband about why we weren’t having sex. Like, at all. Turns out it’s because I’m fat. How do I get over the pain of this revelation and what should I do about this mess I find myself in, emotionally?
The nitty gritty:
I’m 33 years old. I’m short, I have a very curvy body - with most of the curves in the right places, actually. I’ve never been skinny. Never. I can remember being called fat in elementary school (I wasn’t - but I wasn’t thin, either) and once I started developing breasts (fourth grade) my days of being oblivious about my body and not self conscious were completely over. I’ve been married for 9 years now, and we’ve been together for 12. He’s 31. I love my guy intensely. I honestly believe that we have something amazing and special between us, we care for each other, and we really fit with each other. We have loads in common, do lots of things together, get along, see eye to eye and can talk about *almost* anything. But sex has repeatedly been an issue in our relationship, and as of last night, I’m seriously wondering if I wouldn’t be better off as a brain in a jar. My body seems to be nothing but trouble. I wish there were a way to get rid of it and keep the good bits around, since that’s what matters, evidently.
Some background stuff: When we first got together I went on depo provera. It seemed an ideal birth control solution - nothing for forgetful me to remember, no muss, no fuss. However, it just about killed my sex drive and helped me put on some weight that was very hard to lose (beginning of a long trend). Because we were young and just figuring things out - I was his first serious relationship - the conversations we had then about sex really, really hurt me. I have clear and distinct memories of lying in bed, tears streaming down my face, as he laid out a litany of what was wrong with me. Too frigid, not affectionate enough, too passive, too quiet in bed, too fast, too ticklish… too too too. That hurt, and the fact that I couldn’t really get my body to do what I wanted it to do - even when my mind was really into it, I just couldn’t get wet - made him feel rejected. Eventually I also heard (and saw) that basically it was too much work and too much trouble to get me turned on. And so things started tapering off between us.
That was then. Fast forward a bit. The guy and I are polyamorous - it’s one of a million things that we agree on and see eye to eye. We were poly in principle but not in action for a long time, just because we’re both picky and I’m shy. I’ve always been *very* happy that he can find other people to relate to, who enrich his life. I worry sometimes that he’s kind of a misanthrope, and seeing him gain faith in humanity is a sweet and good thing. He hasn’t dated a whole lot, but it’s been enough for him to get some experience. The both of us dated one girl together - and that was an utter disaster. I was coming off the birth control (he got a vasectomy) and I felt weird. She was far more into him than she was into me, and later admitted that she started dating me as a way to get to him, and was never actually interested in me or a joint relationship with us at all. It was a nightmare situation, really, and hurt me badly. And our sex life tapered off a little more, and a little more.
Fast forward a bit more. We dumped the girlfriend. Things improved slightly in the bedroom. He got a new girlfriend, a long distance thing with a girl in California. Their relationship was (is) amazingly rocky and dramatic, pretty much the opposite of ours. The first time they met, she told him she didn’t find him physically attractive (she knew what he looked like) and she was expecting angels since she thought she was in love. He was devastated. He thought she ought to be attracted to him for who he was. They had pity sex. It got weirder from there. It really damaged his confidence. I did the best I could to convince him he was still attractive - I have ALWAYS been attracted to him, and thought the ideal she wanted was ridiculous. They made up. I kept my distance, tried to be supportive as best I could, but wanted him to come to his own conclusions about the relationship.
Now she’s living with us. I thought it would be a temporary thing, but, well, it isn’t. I had honestly never experienced intense jealousy before - now I have. They have sex four or five times a week. He complains that it isn’t very good. And we just… don’t. I started keeping track - we have sex maybe once every three months. I didn’t know what to do. I tried setting up specific ‘sexy times’ for the two of us. He felt pressured, just wanted to relax when he was with me, was so relieved we had ‘more than just sex’ to do with one another. I tried writing him erotica. I tried roleplaying. I tried being less passive - which is really hard for me, but I did try. And… nothing. And I realized that I wasn’t wanting the sex she got - that I was just wanting intimacy too, and I felt that he had done the ‘relationship’s broke: add more people’ thing. And that helped me deal with the jealousy quite a bit, realizing that I didn’t want bad things for her at all. I just wanted some good things for me. But I was still pretty frustrated with things.
And now here I am. I’m lonely. I’m spending a lot of time with my toys. I’m desperate for the man I love and the man I want to *want* me. And last night I finally said something about it. I didn’t know how not to anymore. I tried just dealing with it myself - it’s my problem. But I wanted to know that he wanted me. And what he said was “well maybe if you lost some weight…”. And I’m just crushed. He then tried to have sex with me twice, and failed. He was under too much pressure. It’s not like I was turned on at that point anyway. Nor did he try to turn me on - he was just focusing on himself, not even realizing that he wasn’t *touching* me, and that this wasn’t the way to convince me that I was still wanted.
He said a lot of things that were good to hear. That he loved me. That he cares deeply. That he’s afraid of me dying. That he wants to be with me forever and ever. He apologized for not being more aware of and attending to my needs and desires. He said he’d love me and stay with me even if we never had sex again. Which is… sort of good to hear. But I’m hearing and feeling only the bad notes right now in this symphony.
And now I feel lost, and I feel more lonely than ever. Can I do this? Can I keep on the way we have been? Can I just be his supportive great best friend who cooks the meals and buys the groceries and pays the bills and is his best buddy and helps him with relationship problems and talks to him and cheers him up and cleans the house and is too fat to fuck? Can I do that? Do I want to do that? Will it really be fixed (“maybe” he said… MAYBE) if I lost the extra weight I’m carrying? I want to do that. I never wanted to be too fat to be attractive. It's not like 'fat' is something I consciously chose. My metabolism is slow, and every single activity I like and enjoy and am good at is sedentary. I wonder at what pound mark the line was crossed. But would he want me then? I don’t know. I don’t know if I believe it. I don’t know how to believe it right now. And can I keep motivated to do it? Is the thought “gee, my husband, who gets plenty of sex, will want to fuck me again if I’m skinny” be enough to keep me doing… whatever it is that I need to do to be skinny? I’m resentful. I’m hurt. A small, mean, nasty part of me is even thinking “well, HE has outlets, HE has a girlfriend…” and considers really trying to find it in myself to do the dating thing. I won’t. That’s wrong. I don’t want to bring someone into my life (our lives, really) on those kind of terms. It wouldn’t be fair or right. But oh, I’m feeling spiteful. And I’m feeling tired. And I can’t help but remember how hurt he was when she did something so shallow to him, and how it broke his heart, and I’m bitter about that. And I’m feeling so, so, so sad. He tried to be supportive, when he said these things. He’s grown a lot, in 12 years. I guess I have too, just in all the wrong dimensions.
I don’t know HOW to take this well. Do I transform it into a driving need to be… well, from my perspective, more shallow? I care about this though. I want him to want me. And he doesn’t. He doesn’t. Should I get a personal trainer? Join a gym? I’m already changing my eating habits - I have slightly high cholesterol and have been trying to fix that for a couple of months now. I’ve lost five pounds. He didn’t notice. I didn’t point it out. Should I do something more extreme? His girlfriend is on the atkins diet (which makes meal time challenging, since I’m the household cook). I’ve never been on a diet. I’ve been trying to approach the cholesterol issue not as a diet but as a lifestyle change, looking for small things I can do that won’t be too inconvenient for myself or anyone else who eats my food. Right now I feel a heart-crushing despair when I think about joining a gym. I never wanted to be the fat girl who’s trying to win back her man. I can’t believe I am even considering this. How can I be positive, in this situation? How can I stop crying when I think about it? How can I get back my self esteem and hear the good things and find a way to be all right with this?
posted by anonymous to human relations (116 answers total) 35 users marked this as a favorite
posted by iamabot at 6:22 PM on August 10, 2010 [48 favorites]