IF I WERE to scrawl a letter to an advice columnist right now, it would go something like this:
Dear Incompetent Guide,
I'm skinny. I say that with neither pride nor shame. It just is. I've got good genes and a speedy metabolism. The reason I'm writing is because weight has recently become an issue with someone I'm dating. More so, her weight has become an issue to me. What do I do? Calling her fat and poking at the offending areas only seems to cripple her esteem and lead to tears. She's never even heard of granola, never mind an elliptical machine! At this point I'm thinking of doing the unthinkable and withholding sex. But why should I be punished? HELP!
Slowly Smothering
What I'd give to get a nice, succinct, actionable response to this uncomfortable quandary. But there seems to be no perfect way to address the dimpled pink elephant in the bedroom of any relationship. If you honestly acknowledge your partner's weight gain, you're viewed as critical, demeaning, and shallow. If you don't address it, and withdraw without explanation, frustration grows and your sex life inevitably suffers. And if you address it in the wrong way - through humor and sarcasm, in my case - you can earn yourself a nice tongue lashing.
"It's inside that counts, not outside," I was scolded recently.
My estimate is that it's more like a 50-50 split.
Who are we kidding, pretending that body image and physicality don't matter? Something about them both likely drew you to your partner in the first place. Sure, there are some altruistic souls out there who can overlook a rough exterior. I'm perfectly comfortable admitting that I'm not one of them. Aside from the occasional martini binge, during which I wind up waking on my bathroom floor, I tend to take care of myself. Thinness is likely one byproduct of that behavior. Health is the more important one to me. In a perfect world, I'd like a companion who feels the same.
As with many instances of weight gain, my partner's crept up slowly. A job change led to a more sedentary position. The occasional burger became a regular thing, then got topped with cheese and bacon. Saturdays once spent walking around the city became Saturdays spent lying in bed watching television. Suddenly we're in the middle of a bowling alley with her crying and me apologizing for criticizing her in front of my friends.
"You make me feel like I don't deserve food," she said.
"Don't be crazy, babe," I said, dangling a French fry inches from her nose.
I've tried to address the issue along the way. The new tires I bought for her ailing bike are now rusted from lack of use. Attempts to get her to join me at the gym are rebuffed with claims that our schedules are off. (As far as I'm concerned, self-employed people don't have schedules.) And if I dare comment on what she's eating, the glares from others at the table are enough to shut me up.
For those of you who plan on sending me missives about society putting undue pressure on women to be thin, shut up. Seriously. This woman was "voluptuous" when we started dating, and I like her that way. This isn't about forcing a woman to be a size two when she's naturally several times that. But there's a difference between starving yourself to near anorexia and taking care of yourself to avoid things like clogged arteries, diabetes, and the innumerable ailments that accompany weight gain, including lowered sex drive.
According to Oprah's famous Dr. Katz, weight gain can cause poor blood flow to the genitals, imbalanced levels of estrogen, a dampened libido, and a lowered self worth - all of which can cause problems in the bedroom. In our case, it's probably my sex drive that has decreased in response to her weight gain. And now that the subject has been broached, she's a tad standoffish in bed, likely because she's worried about what I think of her body.
Dread a confrontation though we may, lovers are probably the only people who can address this uncomfortable issue with each another. A doctor's advice is going to sound sterile. Friends lie, especially when it comes to weight. And who really listens to their parents anymore?
So after her tears had dried, I reached deep within myself to find a remnant of sensitivity before sitting her down to have the difficult conversation. I made sure to carefully word my comments, making the issue about her health. And you know what? She was thankful. She wants to be helped. She had no idea how to make healthy food choices, was lucky if she drank a glass of water a week, and thought a muffin was a good way to kick start her day. I've offered to make her lists of foods that she can snack on all day to stave off hunger, reminding her that deprivation is only going to lead to binging.
Throughout the day, I'll send her little reminder e-mails that say something like "WATER." And she'll write back about how there's cake in her office for about the 57th day in a row, but she's not having any. Her coworkers think I'm the devil.
While everyone else is busy being thanked for telling her how great she already looks, I guess I can be the bad guy who actually cares about her. And then she'll get all shapely and fierce and dump my little ass. @
Jeannie Greeley is a carb-loving freelance writer. She can be reached at jeannieg@comcast.net.
