A Special Memory
From any perspective save my own, I’m skinny. That’s only because I’m extremely adept at hiding my belly. But when you’re in a relationship, there’s always a moment of truth. You’re gonna get naked at some point, right? So I made the mistake of asking my husband when he first noticed I was hiding something. Now this is a bastard who can’t remember what I said to him five minutes ago, but of course, he remembers the precise moment he spotted my fat. Apparently we were at a coffee shop, I was wearing a gray and black striped shirt, and he noticed something “hanging over my jeans.” ISN’T THAT SPECIAL? If only he could remember the date, we’d have another anniversary to celebrate.
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That reminds me of the time my husband first noticed the fat I hide. We were joking around and he was calling me “skeletor” and pretending to play my ribs like a xylophone. Then I sat on his lap and he exclaims “whoa!”. My thighs tripled in size when smashed against his. He said they looked like “pears”. How kind of him to notice.
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