This morning I weighed in around 146.5. Not a ton of weight loss for this past month, but I'd been back up in the 148-151 range a lot lately, so I can't say I was disappointed. Until I spoke with my husband. Who apparently weighed 145 this morning. Seriously? SERIOUSLY??? So, I guess that's 44.5 pounds for me, and in the same time span, 10 pounds for Shane. Stupid stupid skinny man. And that's why we're gonna get a divorce. Probably. One day. Then I'm gonna marry some big tubby dude, so that I can ALWAYS weigh less than my husband. And life will be awesome.
Shane weighed like, 125, maybe 130 "after a big meal" when we met. Shane is a twig person. I weighed a healthy....ish 160 when we met. I am not as much a twig person. And although shortly after that I lost a bunch of weight, and Shane has been hanging out between 150 and 160 for the entirety of our marriage, it seems he'll always be the twig person here. However, I have a feeling that there's something a bit more insidious going on here.
When I got down near the 160, and approached Shane's weight, I told him that once I weighed less than him, he'd have to carry me lots of places. That's what married couples do, right?
But here's the thing. Shane doesn't want to carry me places. I guess he's thinking that, if he's going to have to do that, he'd rather me weigh 130 rather than 155, so for no apparent reason, and by no apparent means, he keeps losing weight. Jerkface. Maybe I'll have to sneak attack jump on him and break his little chicken legs.
Stories and gripings about exercise, dieting, life, and what it's been like learning to leave the love handles behind.
No comments:
Post a Comment