My husband and I are both trying to lose some weight and the entire operation is shedding a bad light on our marriage. Specifically on our complete inability to help each other to get in shape at the same time. When it comes to fitness, we are Mr. and Mrs. Smith. And someone is bound to get assassinated by a fried egg sandwich.
Neither of us are interested in having a spouse who is in better shape than we are. And we tend to sabotage each other's attempts to lose weight, either overtly or subconsciously, by simply being the people we are.
My excuse is this: I wouldn't mind having a fat husband. There, I've said it. I would be fine being married to someone who is out of shape and overweight. Throw in patchy balding, a little adult acne Rosacea, varicose veins and old man smell, and I'm still good. I've reached an age where I have no interest in being with a hottie. So I'm not motivated in the least to support my husband's efforts to stay in shape, look young, or look good at all.
When he looks in the mirror and says he's fat, I look in the same mirror and tell him he looks great. And then I go make us both a fried egg sandwich. If he is looking for inspiration to go to the gym, he's in the wrong relationship.
His attitude toward my weight is different. He'd like to be married to someone with Madonna's upper arms, really he would, but he's too competitive to let that happen. If I'm going to get in shape, he sees that as a direct challenge for him to get in shape, too. If I say I'm going to the gym, instead of responding, "Good for you! " he says, "Oh, great. Sure, go to the gym,. Fine. Meet your weight goals. I'll be here, alone, speeding toward an untimely death due to heart plaque and muscle atrophy."
This makes me feel bad, so I make us both a fried egg sandwich.
We're doomed as a couple.
His over-competitiveness and my moral and spiritual lethargy together are going to make us the fattest, most winded couple in San Francisco.
It doesn't help that I also have a well oiled sarcasm machine working 24-7. I looked for inspiration by Googling couples who help each other lose weight and almost detached a retina from rolling my eyes reading this from 34-year-old Jen from Gloucester, Mass.: "When one of us doesn't feel like working out, we always push each other harder and remind each other that we will regret it if we don't," she says. "Whenever we go out to dinner, we help each other to make the right, healthy choices."
"Oh, gawd," I snarled. "These two can just shut up any time now."
"Really," my husband said. "Although maybe if we did that for each other, we might both be thinner and in better shape. I might look better in my tux and you wouldn't use such foul language when putting on your dresses from last year.
"True," I said. "We might be happier and live longer, too."
And then we laughed and laughed as I got out the frying pan and he brought out the toaster. After 32 years of marriage, we know better than to mess with what works.
