3 strikes....

I'm trying to get dressed for my 10 year high school reunion. Nothing makes you more aware of how much weight you've gained than the thought of seeing people who haven't seen you in 10 years and 55 lbs ago. There was no one I really wanted to impress... I think the fact that I have 6 kids is impressive enough that I am crazy. But I'm just thinking how the first thought in their head when they see me and recognize me (thanks to that name tag!) is, "Wow...She got FAT!"

Tonight is a picnic for the whole family and I made sure my kids were all dressed cute and were clean etc. Hoping I could thwart off any gawking at my fat butt by my fellow cavemen being blinded by beautiful children. (BWAAHAHA!)

I'm trying to get dressed, but I'm acutely aware of how snug my tops are (Yes, I'm breastfeeding my 6 month old, and I don't ever start to lose any weight until I ween my kids), how, ehem, saggy said breastfeeding receptacles are for lack of a decent bra, how my pudgy, lumpy belly sticks out, how crazy and uncontrollably BIG my hair has gotten (Seriously, the more I mess with my naturally curly hair, the WORSE it gets...you'd THINK I could remember that.). I can put this stuff in the back of my mind most days, but I am feeling very self conscious tonight.

I ask dh, "Honey, are there any pants that I have that you think make me look thinner?" (I'm meaning, anything that makes me look good...but just in case my dh reads this, I'm telling you what I said word for word)

He answers... "No. They're all the same."

STRIKE ONE.

I'm hurt, but I restate my question, hoping he just didn't get what I meant.

"I mean, is there any outfit I've worn that you think I look good in?"

Again, "No. Not really."

STRIKE TWO!!!!!!

I leave the room.

I'm hunting through my closet, hoping to find some magical pair of size 8's to fit my size 16/18 body, but nothing. I guess it must be at the dry cleaners.

I go back to the living room, hunting again through the folded laundry, hoping to find some gorgeous piece of clothing I never knew I owned that will be stunning and create such an illusion that I will have people stopping to ask me, "What's your secret?" ... Dh opens his mouth and says:

"Well the good thing is that medicine (I just started taking something for post pardum depression) will make you lose weight."

Did he just SAY THAT?

STRIKE THREE!!!!!

I stomp off to my room.

Dh comes in. (Yes, he's a glutton for punishment) He says, "What are you going to wear tomorrow? (The "semi formal" dinner for adults only)

I say, "I don't know...I can't find anything for today so I don't care yet."

And I can't remember exactly how he said it, but it was the tone, I swear. It was like, "What *in the world* are you going to *try to* wear tomorrow *because you can't fit in any of your clothes, you fat pig.* " I put my own words in there, obviously.

Then he says, in his final attempt at lame consoling, "Well, I'm fat too...". He said something after "too", but I didn't hear it.

By this point, I've had enough.

I tell him, something I've always told him the opposite of.... and that is that I want him to LIE TO ME! Tell me I look good even if I don't. Compliment me, even if you're thinking I've really got to lay off the M & Ms. Reassure me that I'm not as huge as I think. Remind me that I had a baby 6 months ago and FIVE others in the 8 years before that! Say something...anything other than what you're saying to me now!!!

So really, if you're counting, we're up to like strike six or something. :(

On a side note, he told me later (after I've yelled at him good! lol) that he "thinks I look good in *everything*" and that's why he couldn't pick a specific outfit. Whatever. You just keeeeeep back peddling, but you commited the cardinal sin. You called your wife fat!