I never imagined I’d find myself in this predicament, but I just had an incredible night of passionate intimacy with my partner, and I can’t shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction.
Lately, he’s been all over me—playfully grabbing my waist in the hallway, brushing against me in suggestive ways as the sun rises. This evening, he caught me off guard, pulling me into our bedroom and pinning me against the wall. I was taken by surprise, and before I knew it, he had my panties around my ankles.
After what felt like an electrifying session, we lay there, our bodies entwined and slick with sweat, laughing at the array of sounds our lovemaking had evoked. He leaned in, whispering in my ear, “I’m sorry, babe. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I must be experiencing some sort of spring fever.”
And just like that, my elation crashed as quickly as it had peaked.
I understand why he’s so enamored with me at the moment; it’s not spring fever—it’s the 8 inches I’ve trimmed from my hips and waist thanks to my rigorous new exercise routine and a strict Weight Watchers plan.
Despite our decade together, two children, and countless shared experiences that have deepened our connection, it’s disheartening to realize that my physical appearance still holds such sway over our sex life.
Now, we’re enjoying the best sex we’ve ever had, yet I feel conflicted. Is his affection genuinely about me, or is it simply a reaction to my recent weight loss and enhanced confidence in my body?
Should I be upset with him for seeming superficial? He claims to love me regardless of my shape, but his actions suggest a different story. A few pounds lost and a bit more definition, and suddenly our bedroom seems to be in overdrive.
The issue might lie within myself. I preach body positivity and self-love in public, yet behind closed doors, I’m critiquing my own body in the shadows of my closet. If I can’t embrace my own self-worth, how can I expect him to?
My body has transformed through pregnancy and weight fluctuations, but he remains unchanged, likely unable to grasp my struggles. Perhaps he’s simply reveling in the new versions of me that come with each change in size.
Now, as my slimmer self engages in near-daily intimacy, I’m left with a mix of ecstasy and guilt. Am I in the wrong, or is he? Each sigh of pleasure serves as a painful reminder of my internal conflict.
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