He wasn’t a particularly attractive man, and, as a matter of fact, he had the least fit body of anyone I had ever been with; something that doesn’t matter in reality, but seems pertinent to this discussion. But somehow, I had a weight limit, and he was the one that set it. If you asked him now, I’m sure he would laugh and insist that it was a joke. But, I didn’t see it as that.
At 5’5”, a 105 lb. weight limit is quite far from healthy. However, I weighed less than that when I met him, so I brushed it off when he said it. I highly doubt he could sense my diffidence or pick up on the inner battle that I had with myself on a regular basis, for he wasn’t the most perceptive or sensitive soul.
He had barbarian-esque manners and would gorge himself with food whenever he had the chance. Yet, he seemed to be monitoring what I ate and how I ate it; though he rarely expressed it outwardly. The weight limit comment came early enough in our relationship and I, for some reason that is beyond me, wanted to please him. I wanted to be liked, specifically by him, and took his desires to heart.
His ignorance and criticism fueled my unhealthy fire. I couldn’t look at a scale without thinking about the number that he had set for me. But all for what? So I could be attractive to someone who only valued my physical appearance? So that I could fit the mold of his perception of beauty?
Luckily, it didn’t take long for me to realize that I would rather be alone than be with someone who would prey on my insecurities. Two years later, here I am, the most comfortable I have ever been in my own skin; yet, never fully free of the sporadic insecure feelings, I’m sure most females can relate. But, beauty isn’t the number on a scale or the size of your pants. Weight limits are for airline baggage, not for your significant other.