Why I Left My Fat Wife
02-18-2009, 02:51 PM
#1
Why I Left My Fat Wife
I’m about to reveal something of myself most of you don’t know.
A few years ago, my wife, Marie, and I were at one of those hip downtown restaurants sipping mangotinis and nibbling on injera bread when one of my bosses appeared with his thin trophy wife in tow and patted my shoulder. When I introduced him to Marie, he naturally looked her up and down. I froze.
Marie and my boss exchanged some small talk but I could see behind the polite chit chat that my boss’ eyes flickered with a hint of disgust. I noticed Marie hadn’t put down her fork, upon which was perched a wobbly chunk of eggplant.
“Well, it was good meeting you,” my boss said, cutting short the conversation.
Marie looked at me and shrugged. “He’s not a very friendly guy, huh?” she said, as my colleague walked off to his table.
“Um, yeah I suppose not,” I said, knowing that was a lie. My boss was actually one of the friendliest men I knew. I understood why he walked off so abruptly. My boss may be friendly, but he’s also a winner, and winners avoid fraternizing with losers. My boss took one look at my fat wife, and recoiled from the stench of loserness. Inside, I was mortified.
Technically, I had it all back then, including a gorgeous toddler and a cool job.
What I didn’t have was a wife I felt proud of.
God knows I wanted to be proud of her. Marie is smart and funny and the only person I know who gets off on explaining why the Twilight books are more feminist than vampiric. And if you asked me about somebody else’s stay-at-home wife, I’d be all over the subject, spouting statistics about how important the mother-daughter bond is to girls’ self-esteem and how limiting it is to expect men to mind the home front. But living with her as she became fatter and fatter was completely different.
Maybe it’s because the plan wasn’t for Marie to lose her looks so rapidly. I went to work when she started graduate school, thinking that I’d head back for my own Ph.D. once she was done. I envisioned us as hard-core SWPLs, reading passages from Joyce to each other while I put together a collection of sexy lingerie for her to wear as we reenacted every sex scene from Victorian era period films. Instead, I fell in love with my first job at a modeling agency, and eventually, after a few promotions, I found myself working as a photographer for a fashion magazine.
Things went less smoothly for Marie. By the time we found out she was pregnant - three years into our marriage - she’d been working at a job teaching film for six months and was beginning to gain weight from all the take-out she ate. She began packing on the pounds by the week, and it affected everything about her - her mood, job performance, health, sexiness. The lingerie I had bought her no longer fit, lost in the folds of her burgeoning ass. Still, the minute her pregnancy test flashed its double pink lines at me, I knew I needed to work even harder at my job to ensure my child had the best chance in life.
I worked late nights for six months after my daughter was born while Marie continued, yes, bloating up. In 18 months, she gained 40 pounds. Meanwhile, I was being pursued by the models I photographed. Eventually, I flirted with some of them.
I felt like myself again - flirting, feeling horny, loving the sight of beautiful women, doing the witty-banter thing in the halls with the models. But my marriage started to fall apart. I felt guilty about being glad to go back to work, and in my head, I made it Marie’s fault. Because she had gotten fat, I blamed her when I was working late and had to miss the baby’s bedtime; it was her fault I had to go in early every day, since the fact that she couldn’t stay slim meant that I couldn’t stop myself from checking out other women. And when I got home, I seethed. I couldn’t walk across the living room without tripping over a half-eaten apple pie or an ice cream scoop. The baby was in the same little nightgown she’d slept in the night before. There wasn’t a hint of food in the fridge; Marie had eaten it all. She was home all day-couldn’t she at least run a few laps on the freaking treadmill?
Eventually, communication between Marie and me deteriorated to the point where all we talked about was the baby. Had she gotten enough sleep? What had she eaten for lunch? How could she have run through an entire value pack of diapers in one weekend? “Wait till I tell you what she did,” she’d say every once in a while, as she gazed adoringly at the baby and I gazed around the room to avoid looking at my wife’s Pillsbury rolls. In those moments - watching Marie gently rock her to sleep while singing “Punk Rock Girl” - I was reminded why I had once thought Marie was the sexiest woman in the world. But our sex life was in ruins; I spent all my time in the computer den (AKA pornatorium) or at work-sponsored happy hours with the models. I chalked it up to the transition period all new parents go through. Then one day, I realized it had been almost a year since Marie and I had made love.
Sometimes she’d say, “I really think things would be better for us if we could just be intimate again.” Or she’d put the baby to bed early and come into the living room with two glasses of wine and a book of poetry - our classic recipe for seduction - but just the thought of me touching her cottage cheese thighs and lint-encrusted belly rolls made me recoil. “Maybe I’m just not a sexual person anymore,” I told her, and I honestly meant it. The truth is, I wasn’t attracted to her anymore. It wasn’t that she’d changed on the inside - she still had the same sense of humor, kind heart, and sharp intellect that had literally made me fall in love when I first met her. But in my heart and my head, I’d neutralized her as a sexual being. I wanted to be overwhelmed by the sheer power of her femininity in the bedroom, but I wasn’t. Because I felt like the dumpster diver in our relationship.
We went to see a therapist. “Don’t you think I resent you for how easy it is for you to stay thin?” Marie asked me during one session. “You have these great genes, and I’m home like a slave, running errands, taking care of your shit, and you can’t even spare me five minutes of sex at the end of the day.” I think it was the first time I’d actually listened to what she had to say in years. She said that she was angry with me for always staying out late and partying with slender models, and angry with herself for not being able to turn me on anymore. She said she didn’t appreciate being treated like a nanny-slash-housekeeper-slash-fat disgusting crap to be ignored in favor of porn. But what alternatives was she offering? I had ever so gently suggested she would feel better and our marriage would be happier if she lost the weight she had gained and slimmed back down to the hot wife I knew when I first fell in love with her and married her, but instead all she did was get fatter. We separated a few months later.
In retrospect, I realized I had this preconceived idea of what a sexy, attractive woman should be like. I imagined being married to, well, a good-looking, thin wife with a shapely hourglass figure. Someone whose attractive womanly physique looks pleasant to other people as well as to me. Someone who walks out the door with a sexy dress on, high heels, and a tight ass. Someone who turns heads. Does that make me a sexist? “I always felt embarrassed and guilty - you had all these preconditions for me that I felt like I wasn’t living up to,” Marie said to me after our divorce.
So nobody was more surprised than I was when I went ahead and fell for another funny, bright, kind woman like Marie.
Here’s the difference, though: Magdalena knows what men want - and it’s not a poetry reading over bon bons sitting on the increasingly concave couch. She knows men want to make sweet love to sexy, slender women who can wear the hot lingerie he buys for her without looking like a walrus tangled in a ball of string. Playing with my daughter or painting or translating the writings of Pablo Neruda is fine, but it is only a garnish to the main marriage course - hot, steamy, passionate love with a physically attractive woman. There’s nothing food-obsessed or self-loathing about her. When Magdalena and I are cooking dinner together on Friday nights in a kitchen devoid of cheetos and tubs of Haagen Daz, or trying to drink coffee in bed on Sunday mornings while my daughter dances around us, I’m so attracted to her that it’s all I can do not to rip her clothes off then and there.
Put it this way: Whether it’s me or the sexy figure she’s keeping, I think it’s damn sexy.
This article was sent to various women’s magazines for publication and is not written by me.
A few years ago, my wife, Marie, and I were at one of those hip downtown restaurants sipping mangotinis and nibbling on injera bread when one of my bosses appeared with his thin trophy wife in tow and patted my shoulder. When I introduced him to Marie, he naturally looked her up and down. I froze.
Marie and my boss exchanged some small talk but I could see behind the polite chit chat that my boss’ eyes flickered with a hint of disgust. I noticed Marie hadn’t put down her fork, upon which was perched a wobbly chunk of eggplant.
“Well, it was good meeting you,” my boss said, cutting short the conversation.
Marie looked at me and shrugged. “He’s not a very friendly guy, huh?” she said, as my colleague walked off to his table.
“Um, yeah I suppose not,” I said, knowing that was a lie. My boss was actually one of the friendliest men I knew. I understood why he walked off so abruptly. My boss may be friendly, but he’s also a winner, and winners avoid fraternizing with losers. My boss took one look at my fat wife, and recoiled from the stench of loserness. Inside, I was mortified.
Technically, I had it all back then, including a gorgeous toddler and a cool job.
What I didn’t have was a wife I felt proud of.
God knows I wanted to be proud of her. Marie is smart and funny and the only person I know who gets off on explaining why the Twilight books are more feminist than vampiric. And if you asked me about somebody else’s stay-at-home wife, I’d be all over the subject, spouting statistics about how important the mother-daughter bond is to girls’ self-esteem and how limiting it is to expect men to mind the home front. But living with her as she became fatter and fatter was completely different.
Maybe it’s because the plan wasn’t for Marie to lose her looks so rapidly. I went to work when she started graduate school, thinking that I’d head back for my own Ph.D. once she was done. I envisioned us as hard-core SWPLs, reading passages from Joyce to each other while I put together a collection of sexy lingerie for her to wear as we reenacted every sex scene from Victorian era period films. Instead, I fell in love with my first job at a modeling agency, and eventually, after a few promotions, I found myself working as a photographer for a fashion magazine.
Things went less smoothly for Marie. By the time we found out she was pregnant - three years into our marriage - she’d been working at a job teaching film for six months and was beginning to gain weight from all the take-out she ate. She began packing on the pounds by the week, and it affected everything about her - her mood, job performance, health, sexiness. The lingerie I had bought her no longer fit, lost in the folds of her burgeoning ass. Still, the minute her pregnancy test flashed its double pink lines at me, I knew I needed to work even harder at my job to ensure my child had the best chance in life.
I worked late nights for six months after my daughter was born while Marie continued, yes, bloating up. In 18 months, she gained 40 pounds. Meanwhile, I was being pursued by the models I photographed. Eventually, I flirted with some of them.
I felt like myself again - flirting, feeling horny, loving the sight of beautiful women, doing the witty-banter thing in the halls with the models. But my marriage started to fall apart. I felt guilty about being glad to go back to work, and in my head, I made it Marie’s fault. Because she had gotten fat, I blamed her when I was working late and had to miss the baby’s bedtime; it was her fault I had to go in early every day, since the fact that she couldn’t stay slim meant that I couldn’t stop myself from checking out other women. And when I got home, I seethed. I couldn’t walk across the living room without tripping over a half-eaten apple pie or an ice cream scoop. The baby was in the same little nightgown she’d slept in the night before. There wasn’t a hint of food in the fridge; Marie had eaten it all. She was home all day-couldn’t she at least run a few laps on the freaking treadmill?
Eventually, communication between Marie and me deteriorated to the point where all we talked about was the baby. Had she gotten enough sleep? What had she eaten for lunch? How could she have run through an entire value pack of diapers in one weekend? “Wait till I tell you what she did,” she’d say every once in a while, as she gazed adoringly at the baby and I gazed around the room to avoid looking at my wife’s Pillsbury rolls. In those moments - watching Marie gently rock her to sleep while singing “Punk Rock Girl” - I was reminded why I had once thought Marie was the sexiest woman in the world. But our sex life was in ruins; I spent all my time in the computer den (AKA pornatorium) or at work-sponsored happy hours with the models. I chalked it up to the transition period all new parents go through. Then one day, I realized it had been almost a year since Marie and I had made love.
Sometimes she’d say, “I really think things would be better for us if we could just be intimate again.” Or she’d put the baby to bed early and come into the living room with two glasses of wine and a book of poetry - our classic recipe for seduction - but just the thought of me touching her cottage cheese thighs and lint-encrusted belly rolls made me recoil. “Maybe I’m just not a sexual person anymore,” I told her, and I honestly meant it. The truth is, I wasn’t attracted to her anymore. It wasn’t that she’d changed on the inside - she still had the same sense of humor, kind heart, and sharp intellect that had literally made me fall in love when I first met her. But in my heart and my head, I’d neutralized her as a sexual being. I wanted to be overwhelmed by the sheer power of her femininity in the bedroom, but I wasn’t. Because I felt like the dumpster diver in our relationship.
We went to see a therapist. “Don’t you think I resent you for how easy it is for you to stay thin?” Marie asked me during one session. “You have these great genes, and I’m home like a slave, running errands, taking care of your shit, and you can’t even spare me five minutes of sex at the end of the day.” I think it was the first time I’d actually listened to what she had to say in years. She said that she was angry with me for always staying out late and partying with slender models, and angry with herself for not being able to turn me on anymore. She said she didn’t appreciate being treated like a nanny-slash-housekeeper-slash-fat disgusting crap to be ignored in favor of porn. But what alternatives was she offering? I had ever so gently suggested she would feel better and our marriage would be happier if she lost the weight she had gained and slimmed back down to the hot wife I knew when I first fell in love with her and married her, but instead all she did was get fatter. We separated a few months later.
In retrospect, I realized I had this preconceived idea of what a sexy, attractive woman should be like. I imagined being married to, well, a good-looking, thin wife with a shapely hourglass figure. Someone whose attractive womanly physique looks pleasant to other people as well as to me. Someone who walks out the door with a sexy dress on, high heels, and a tight ass. Someone who turns heads. Does that make me a sexist? “I always felt embarrassed and guilty - you had all these preconditions for me that I felt like I wasn’t living up to,” Marie said to me after our divorce.
So nobody was more surprised than I was when I went ahead and fell for another funny, bright, kind woman like Marie.
Here’s the difference, though: Magdalena knows what men want - and it’s not a poetry reading over bon bons sitting on the increasingly concave couch. She knows men want to make sweet love to sexy, slender women who can wear the hot lingerie he buys for her without looking like a walrus tangled in a ball of string. Playing with my daughter or painting or translating the writings of Pablo Neruda is fine, but it is only a garnish to the main marriage course - hot, steamy, passionate love with a physically attractive woman. There’s nothing food-obsessed or self-loathing about her. When Magdalena and I are cooking dinner together on Friday nights in a kitchen devoid of cheetos and tubs of Haagen Daz, or trying to drink coffee in bed on Sunday mornings while my daughter dances around us, I’m so attracted to her that it’s all I can do not to rip her clothes off then and there.
Put it this way: Whether it’s me or the sexy figure she’s keeping, I think it’s damn sexy.
This article was sent to various women’s magazines for publication and is not written by me.
02-18-2009, 02:54 PM
#2
And in case you were wondering its inspiration... It's brilliant satire of the Maire Claire piece: Why I Left My Beta Husband
http://www.marieclaire.com/print-thi...beta-husband-2
http://www.marieclaire.com/print-thi...beta-husband-2
02-18-2009, 03:30 PM
#4
LOL good read. Who wants to be married to a loser? lolz
I'm pretty shallow too these days. I can mess with a bigger girl but its not the same for me.
And my odds dont look good since 85% of Black Females are overweight
I'm pretty shallow too these days. I can mess with a bigger girl but its not the same for me.
And my odds dont look good since 85% of Black Females are overweight
Last edited by gr8ness97; 02-18-2009 at 03:32 PM.
02-18-2009, 03:35 PM
#5
My Garage
Trending Topics
02-18-2009, 11:56 PM
#10
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
This fucking thread is hilarious!
85% of black women are fat???? Where the hell are you looking for these women at, in Wal-Mart and Krispy Kreme??? No they are not!
I tell you what the problem is though playboy. It's that sisters are phat to death when they are mobile and younger. BUT - once they start getting older, all of that junk in the trunk turns to chunk in the funk! So hey, fuck 'em while you can when they are hotties, cause they are fatties 20 years from then! And you gotta slingshot 'em biscuits to tolerate their mofo ass!
And don't act like there are no big fat white moo cows grazing the streets either! I'm talking fat with those big ass ankles like ham hocks grazing too!! Like she just ate a case of dough and her ass turned into a fucking collection of golf balls!
And Spanish fat chicks love to show off those motherfucking rolls! What the fuck is up with that shit? Like I need to punch her ass in the gut, and jump on and ride the wave in to that pussy! Slow down Mami you making me seasick!
And the Asian fat girls look really fucked up because your mental says that Asians are supposed to be skinny, and then you see one of those pie-faced, flat assed, flied-lice (fried rice) chicks and you are like what the fuck, did I land in a Sponge-Bob Squarepants episode or what?
All of these types of women look good than a mofo young, but I ain't fucking with nobody over 140 after they turn 35 because its rough in the pros after that playa...
85% of black women are fat???? Where the hell are you looking for these women at, in Wal-Mart and Krispy Kreme??? No they are not!
I tell you what the problem is though playboy. It's that sisters are phat to death when they are mobile and younger. BUT - once they start getting older, all of that junk in the trunk turns to chunk in the funk! So hey, fuck 'em while you can when they are hotties, cause they are fatties 20 years from then! And you gotta slingshot 'em biscuits to tolerate their mofo ass!
And don't act like there are no big fat white moo cows grazing the streets either! I'm talking fat with those big ass ankles like ham hocks grazing too!! Like she just ate a case of dough and her ass turned into a fucking collection of golf balls!
And Spanish fat chicks love to show off those motherfucking rolls! What the fuck is up with that shit? Like I need to punch her ass in the gut, and jump on and ride the wave in to that pussy! Slow down Mami you making me seasick!
And the Asian fat girls look really fucked up because your mental says that Asians are supposed to be skinny, and then you see one of those pie-faced, flat assed, flied-lice (fried rice) chicks and you are like what the fuck, did I land in a Sponge-Bob Squarepants episode or what?
All of these types of women look good than a mofo young, but I ain't fucking with nobody over 140 after they turn 35 because its rough in the pros after that playa...
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justnspace (04-18-2013)
02-19-2009, 08:38 AM
#11
Truth---> According to the CDC a person is overweight if they have a BMI (body mass index) of more than 25. Obesity begins when a person has a BMI of 30 or more. African Americans have high incident rates of obesity. As a matter of fact black women have the highest rates of obesity in America. 79.5 percent of Black women are overweight or obese.
So what, I exaggerated a little bit.
02-19-2009, 08:48 AM
#12
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
http://www.blackdemographics.com/health.html
Truth---> According to the CDC a person is overweight if they have a BMI (body mass index) of more than 25. Obesity begins when a person has a BMI of 30 or more. African Americans have high incident rates of obesity. As a matter of fact black women have the highest rates of obesity in America. 79.5 percent of Black women are overweight or obese.
So what, I exaggerated a little bit.
Truth---> According to the CDC a person is overweight if they have a BMI (body mass index) of more than 25. Obesity begins when a person has a BMI of 30 or more. African Americans have high incident rates of obesity. As a matter of fact black women have the highest rates of obesity in America. 79.5 percent of Black women are overweight or obese.
So what, I exaggerated a little bit.
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justnspace (04-18-2013)
02-19-2009, 09:15 AM
#15
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I was thinking that too.
What's ironic is women seem to be more tolerant of having chubby hubbies than men are of having fat wives. It doesn't really add up. If women will put up with having a massive beer gut sitting between them during making love, why don't men put up with some extra padding on their women.
I admit fat women can look gross, but I don't know about divorcing my wife just because she gains a few pounds. I think I'd first make a deal with her saying if you don't lose weight you get no sex
. Haha, but yeah. Life would be easier if we never changed and always looked like we did when we were in our 20s. Hot young and sexy .
What's ironic is women seem to be more tolerant of having chubby hubbies than men are of having fat wives
. It doesn't really add up. If women will put up with having a massive beer gut sitting between them during making love, why don't men put up with some extra padding on their women. I admit fat women can look gross, but I don't know about divorcing my wife just because she gains a few pounds. I think I'd first make a deal with her saying if you don't lose weight you get no sex
. Haha, but yeah. Life would be easier if we never changed and always looked like we did when we were in our 20s. Hot young and sexy .
02-19-2009, 09:25 AM
#16
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
I was thinking that too.
What's ironic is women seem to be more tolerant of having chubby hubbies than men are of having fat wives. It doesn't really add up. If women will put up with having a massive beer gut sitting between them during making love, why don't men put up with some extra padding on their women.
I admit fat women can look gross, but I don't know about divorcing my wife just because she gains a few pounds. I think I'd first make a deal with her saying if you don't lose weight you get no sex . Haha, but yeah. Life would be easier if we never changed and always looked like we did when we were in our 20s. Hot young and sexy .
What's ironic is women seem to be more tolerant of having chubby hubbies than men are of having fat wives
. It doesn't really add up. If women will put up with having a massive beer gut sitting between them during making love, why don't men put up with some extra padding on their women. I admit fat women can look gross, but I don't know about divorcing my wife just because she gains a few pounds. I think I'd first make a deal with her saying if you don't lose weight you get no sex
. Haha, but yeah. Life would be easier if we never changed and always looked like we did when we were in our 20s. Hot young and sexy .It reminds me of something this guy that works with me said. He had been burned in a fire before. We were standing around talking and this burn victim chick walked by, looking otherwise good as hell, save for the burn marks on her arm and face, which looked kinda splotchy. he was like nah, I'll pass. I was like why, you burnt orange too mofo! He said, motherfucker, just because I'm burnt dont mean I want a burnt bitch! Hahahahaha...I said I feel ya!
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justnspace (04-18-2013)
02-19-2009, 09:56 AM
#18
Suzuka Master
You gotta define fat. Lets face it, by the time girls are getting into the late 20's early thirties, "average" is 15-25 pounds overweight. And some girls carry it much better than others. I don't mind so much when a lot of that fat goes to the right places.
Hell, think about Anna Nicole Smith That bitch got up over 200lbs
I'd hit it.
Hell, think about Anna Nicole Smith That bitch got up over 200lbs
I'd hit it.
02-19-2009, 11:24 AM
#21
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Why did you leave your fat wife?
Because she apparently had nothing to offer other than her looks to begin with
Because she apparently had nothing to offer other than her looks to begin with
02-19-2009, 11:29 AM
#22
What Would Don Draper Do?
Here’s the difference, though: Magdalena knows what men want - and it’s not a poetry reading over bon bons sitting on the increasingly concave couch. She knows men want to make sweet love to sexy, slender women who can wear the hot lingerie he buys for her without looking like a walrus tangled in a ball of string. Playing with my daughter or painting or translating the writings of Pablo Neruda is fine, but it is only a garnish to the main marriage course - hot, steamy, passionate love with a physically attractive woman. There’s nothing food-obsessed or self-loathing about her. When Magdalena and I are cooking dinner together on Friday nights in a kitchen devoid of cheetos and tubs of Haagen Daz, or trying to drink coffee in bed on Sunday mornings while my daughter dances around us, I’m so attracted to her that it’s all I can do not to rip her clothes off then and there.
and 
at walrus tangled in a ball of string2. rip her clothes off while the daughter's dancing around?
3. good point, ken.
4. am i the only one that pictured a mexican woman in the original post? racistzine, i know.
02-19-2009, 11:39 AM
#23
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02-19-2009, 01:35 PM
#26
What Would Don Draper Do?
02-19-2009, 01:39 PM
#27
Go Giants
meh...
02-19-2009, 01:53 PM
#30
Go Giants
My wife is heavy. She just had surgery that should take care of that, it was her decision and was based on health, not looks. My wife is beautiful. She is an loving wife (she puts up with me), a terrific mother (even though she works long hours she always makes time for my son) and a great provider (as you know). She is the smartest, strongest woman I know and I am lucky to have her. And we were both heavy when we met and married. I'm not saying this to berate you guys, you guys know what you like...Im just saying that sometimes you should look at the inner person.
02-19-2009, 01:59 PM
#32
Go Giants
02-19-2009, 02:01 PM
#34
Go Giants
02-19-2009, 02:55 PM
#35
Senior Moderator
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iTrader: (6)
All I saw was the title "Why I Left My Fat Wife" last poster Whiskers
And thought, wow I gotta see what's up in this thread
And thought, wow I gotta see what's up in this thread
02-19-2009, 03:08 PM
#36
Suzuka Master
My wife is heavy. She just had surgery that should take care of that, it was her decision and was based on health, not looks. My wife is beautiful. She is an loving wife (she puts up with me), a terrific mother (even though she works long hours she always makes time for my son) and a great provider (as you know). She is the smartest, strongest woman I know and I am lucky to have her. And we were both heavy when we met and married. I'm not saying this to berate you guys, you guys know what you like...Im just saying that sometimes you should look at the inner person.
Hi Wiskers wife.
Just let us know when she is gone so we can get back to making fun of fat chicks.
02-19-2009, 03:17 PM
#37
Because men and women have different criteria for what makes them attractive. Why that isn't obvious by now I have no idea.
And we're not talking "just" a couple of pounds here either.
I was thinking that too.
What's ironic is women seem to be more tolerant of having chubby hubbies than men are of having fat wives. It doesn't really add up. If women will put up with having a massive beer gut sitting between them during making love, why don't men put up with some extra padding on their women.
What's ironic is women seem to be more tolerant of having chubby hubbies than men are of having fat wives
. It doesn't really add up. If women will put up with having a massive beer gut sitting between them during making love, why don't men put up with some extra padding on their women.
02-19-2009, 03:19 PM
#38
Team Owner
My wife is heavy. She just had surgery that should take care of that, it was her decision and was based on health, not looks. My wife is beautiful. She is an loving wife (she puts up with me), a terrific mother (even though she works long hours she always makes time for my son) and a great provider (as you know). She is the smartest, strongest woman I know and I am lucky to have her. And we were both heavy when we met and married. I'm not saying this to berate you guys, you guys know what you like...Im just saying that sometimes you should look at the inner person.
My wife was pretty thin when we married. She had two kids and that took a toll on her shape. She's been exercising and has lost weight the past few years.
We've had our difficulties over the years, but they haven't been related to weight (hers or mine).
02-19-2009, 03:22 PM
#39
That's cute to say, and really it scores points with chicks, but the reality is that sex is critical to most men - and a fat ogre of a wife is antithetical to our desires for a hot wife (assuming we even decide to get married).