I have reached a critical juncture in our relationship. I’ve tried to accommodate your requests for me to join you at the gym, and I’ve held back my reactions when you scrutinized the contents of the ice cream carton. I have shed tears in private when you questioned why I needed both desserts, striving to see your concerns about my health and weight as love. But today, I must be candid: I can’t keep trying anymore.
Let me clarify something vital—I have never had, nor will I ever have, a conventional relationship with food. I hope you can take a moment to process this and ask any questions you may have, but I cannot offer endless explanations. At some point, you must accept this part of who I am.
You might think I require your oversight regarding my well-being, and while your intentions stem from a desire for us to share a long life together, I assure you that my health is not in jeopardy. My immune system is robust, and I navigate daily life with ease, including my physically demanding job. I have no medical evidence suggesting I am at immediate risk of serious health issues.
When you express a desire for me to be healthy and live a long life, it often feels like pressure rather than encouragement. Your words may be intended to motivate me, but they trigger feelings of anxiety instead. If you’re unfamiliar with triggers, please ask; I’m willing to explain.
For example, when you invite me to participate in something like a Whole30 challenge, it’s not the challenge itself that triggers me. Rather, it’s the mental rush that comes from the idea of another restrictive diet—a chance to return to an obsession. My mind races to extremes, contemplating how I can push the rules to their limits while restricting my intake.
While you fear that my weight gain might lead to health issues, my genuine fear lies in any form of dieting, as I’ve been advised to avoid it entirely by medical professionals. An eating disorder is, at its core, a mental health condition. You may see a person who appears unhealthy, but you cannot grasp the battles I’ve faced internally. The freedom I now experience around food is something I cherish deeply.
I weigh 200 pounds, and I don’t even enjoy mayonnaise, but the liberation I feel from not fearing food is indescribably precious. I can engage in meaningful conversations at the dinner table without fretting about the last piece of bruschetta. I can dance or take a walk without fixating on the calories burned. I wake up without dreading my next dietary misstep, because I’m not on a diet. I can indulge in chocolate without it consuming my thoughts.
What I cannot do is restrict myself ever again. I cannot accept your remarks about my eating habits, whether it’s about late-night snacks or leftovers. I cannot share my life with someone who doesn’t find every part of me utterly attractive. If you can’t embrace all 200 pounds of me, then none of me is for you.
I am not a small person; I never have been. I’ve been a vibrant personality from my childhood, and I embrace that. Yet I have faced pressure to conform to smaller ideals, and I complied, which led to a hollow existence. I was thin, but I was also unhealthy and unwell.
I would rather remain at my current weight—embracing my body, even if it jiggles—than live in constant dread of food. I’d choose to be single than fit into a mold that society deems desirable. Yes, I would choose recovery over being your ideal.
For years, I felt like a stranger in my own skin, always trying to change it. Now, I finally feel at home. I love my body for its resilience and the journey it has taken me on, even if it is not as metabolically ideal as I wish. When I look in the mirror, I feel relief, while you may see someone who neglects their health. We view my body through different lenses, and while that is often acceptable, in this case, it’s a barrier to our future.
I possess a strong, beautiful, healing body filled with vitality and power. If you cannot accept all 200 pounds of me, then I must remain whole for myself. It has taken me years to reclaim my sense of self, and I refuse to compromise that again.
With love,
Your devoted partner, embracing every fabulous inch of me.
For more insights on fertility and family planning, consider exploring our posts on couples’ fertility journeys and at-home fertility tests, along with resources from Facts About Fertility.
In summary, the journey to self-acceptance is complex and deeply personal, especially when it involves relationships and health. It’s essential to find a partner who embraces every part of you, encouraging you to thrive rather than shrink.