A few months ago my husband and I slept in separate beds, the first time in our two-year marriage. (Sleep isn't exactly the right word, since I didn't get much of it.) The cause: a spat about my weight, never an easy subject, and less easy lately because I had gained more than 15 pounds since we'd gotten hitched.
Earlier in the evening, I'd been complaining to him about a nutritionist who had recommended I forgo wheat, dairy, and carbs of any kind. Me, I'm a carbs girl -- I've never met a plate of pasta I didn't like. "I'm not sure I can do this," I told Randy, as we sat at the bar of a local restaurant and I picked at my semi-wilted salad, dressing on the side, croutons moved to his plate. "I think it makes more sense for me to just eat less of everything and exercise more, don't you think?" I was expecting support, but instead my husband said this: "Well, clearly what you've been doing hasn't been workingRead More »from Don't Go There: How My Weight Became a Non-Issue in My Relationship