Intimacy and Obesity

April 2006. Vilonia, Arkansas.

A young couple sits alone together on their living room sofa. It is a stormy night and rain is gently pelting the windows. They are enjoying a quiet evening alone while their daughter visits her grandparents. Suddenly, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eye and she becomes visibly uncomfortable. He cautiously reaches for her hand and engulfs it with his own. He looks at her and smiles his brightest. She tries to avert her eyes, but she has already met his stare. She forces a weak smile which quickly fades with a brilliant flash of lightning. She knows that look. She knows exactly what he is thinking. She also knows that they haven't been intimate in a very long time. "How can he find me attractive?" "Why would he want me?" He is putting his arm around her..."Please, don't touch that mass of extra flesh around my middle!!" ... His hand rests on that hellish location and she tries to straighten herself slightly in a desperate attempt to flatten herself. He moves forward slowly...head tilted ever so slightly..."I can't do this!! I can't let him see me naked!!!!!" She jumps to her feet leaving him to collapse alone on the couch. In a single flash of light, she has opened the door, flung herself out into the storm, and runs screaming into the night. She is never heard from again.

Okay, so it's not as dramatic as that. And, as you are reading this, it is evident that I have not disappeared from the world, but I do find myself wishing that I could at times. Intimacy is hard for me right now. In the last few months, my self esteem has taken a real beating. I moved 3 hours away from home, I failed out of my PhD program, my husband and I nearly divorced, I fell into clinical depression, was unemployed for more than 5 months, and gained almost 40 pounds. I didn't like myself and couldn't believe that other people did! Getting out of bed each day was hard enough, much less going to bed with my husband. I didn't dress up, I didn't wear makeup, I didn't care about myself. I would oblige him sometimes and rely on my acting skills to reassure him but there were Da Rules:

1. No light of ANY kind. No lamps, no candles, no nothing.
2. Shirt ON.
3. Under the covers.
4. ALL windows and doors closed and covered completely.
5. No massages.

Sounds terrible, doesn't it?!? This was my reality a few months ago. I was a miserable wreck. Last April, on the verge on separation, my husband and I started therapy. Our marriage counselor soon became my personal psychologist as I struggled to face my destiny head on. Luckily, medication wasn't necessary and things started to look up. My husband and I reconciled once he understood the seriousness of my condition. I got a great job as a research coordinator at Arkansas Children's Hospital and postponed my PhD studies until the completion of the 3 year study I am working on. I started a diet and exercise program. All this saved my life. I am more content and my spirit is rejuvenated. I have found many online friends who are there to help me and I have vowed to become more active in my community. Unfortunately, I don't know the precise moment that my life changed, but it has improved since.

As for intimacy, I am getting better. We started breaking Da Rules gradually and one by one. I let him light one candle. I slept in the nude. We give each other massages and I don't even mind if he touches one of my jelly rolls. I regard it as his farewell to my flesh; his tender goodbye to the parts of me that have literally and figuratively weighed me down for more than a year now. It will make it all so much sweeter when he can no longer find any of those hellish locations on me!!

Now, I have to go. My daughter is spending the week with her grandparents....