I Will Do It For Me

“What’s really going on? What do you want from me? Who do you want me to be?” I ask in a desperate, pleading voice.

This isn’t the first fight we’ve had, especially lately. But this is the first time I’ve seen this look on his face. A look of what I can only describe as disgust. Maybe I’ve finally pushed him to the point where he’s going to be honest with me.

But isn’t that what I want? Isn’t that what I’m asking for?

“Well...I haven’t wanted to say this before because I know you’ve had a tough time and you’re under a lot of pressure, but I really want you to be in better shape…” he trails off, looking at me expectantly.

I’m in shock and I’m also surprised at myself for being in shock. It’s not like I haven’t heard him make comments about beautiful, thin women on TV or even in public. It’s never bothered me before, because he has also mentioned that he likes my curves, that they turn him on. He’s an “ass” man as they say. In his group of friends, he is known for liking thicker girls.

“I mean, that’s why I paid for those training classes for you. It’s not about aesthetics...it’s about being healthy,” he explains, backtracking when he sees the look on my face.

But I don’t believe him. I believe he wants me to lose weight, to look better. Health is not his concern.

I think it’s all about “aesthetics”.

I eat healthy for the most part and exercise around 3 days a week. No, it’s not as much as I used to; working out 5-6 days a week and dieting and counting every calorie. I haven’t been as diligent of late, because of everything I’ve gone through in the past year and a half.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so tired all of the time. Two jobs, all of this court stuff, making sure my son is ok emotionally, keeping the house clean, dinner on the table, trying to be a good friend, a good daughter and sister, trying to keep you happy and fighting every day just to survive. I feel like all I’ve been doing is fighting for every breath I take,” I say brokenly.

All I see are my excuses chasing his changing expressions like a whirlwind of disappointment. He’s heard it all before. He’s dealt with my mood swings and stress and all the drama that has transpired. He knows I’m not exaggerating. He knows what I’ve been going through.

But it doesn’t seem to matter in comparison to what I look like; what I weigh.

“I know, I just want you to be happy with yourself,” he offers.

I wasn’t completely unhappy with myself, per se. I knew I had some work to do, emotionally and physically to become the woman I dream myself to be. But I was very proud of what I had done so far. I was strong enough to leave my toxic ex-husband, to lose almost 80 pounds since I left him and to learn to care about how I looked for me and nobody else. I strive to be healthy, for myself and for my son. I want him to grow up with a mother who shows him how fun and satisfying exercise can be and learn good habits.

The weight issue goes back a long way, far back to middle school at my earliest memory. Being bullied in school by cruel girls who made fun of me for being curvy, some even making fun of me for not having as much money as them. What I wore, what I ate and what I said was judged and ridiculed by what I now know to be people with low self-esteem issues of their own.

I thought I had found someone who loved me for everything I’ve become and appreciated me for the loving, kind person I am. I’m not perfect. I have my moments where I am not at my best. I demand a lot from a partner, but nothing I wouldn’t give in return threefold.

I promised myself I would never be with someone who made me feel like my ex did. I swore when I finally gained my freedom that I would never let anyone make me feel the way he did on a daily basis. Like I was insignificant, small and worthless. I made a vow to myself that I would put a stop to any negative comments about my body or my personality one way or another.

And here I am, feeling that way again.

But here I am, stronger than I was before.

If he thinks the result of his revelation is going to be getting a better aesthetically pleasing woman, he hasn’t learned anything about me in the three years we’ve been together.

I will start working out more, but not for him.

I will manage my stress and moods better, but not for him.

I will accomplish my goals and realize my dreams, but not for him.

I will do all of this and I will do it even more fantastically than he was ever able to comprehend.

And I will do it for me and me alone.

And then I will find someone who doesn't care about any of it and instead sees the beauty inside that shines with every step I take towards the future.