The questions we don't want to ask...

I have to start today with a confession.

When I started this blog, I did it with the intention of finding an outlet for my frustation. I viewed it as a place to inspire others and get inspiration myself. I knew it would keep me accountable and help me on my journey to becoming the best me possible. I vowed to be as honest and forthright as possible.

I haven't been doing that.

For the past few days, I've been going back and forth about something in my life and I've thought "Hmm, I bet it would make an interesting blog. I can't be the only one feeling this way, right?" but it's such a personal look into my life I couldn't do it. Then I realized I had a few more readers than I thought and I again told myself, "Well, I can't put that out there...it's too personal."

But after an informal poll of my friends I realized--I'm not alone. And we were so relieved to hear most of our friends had gone through similar situations and shared the same fears so I found a little bravery and here I go...

It's always hard to accept when something in your life isn't right. Especially when the part that isn't right is...your love life.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I know I'm married to an incredible man. And I know I'm lucky to have someone like him.

Mr. CCC is as supportive and encouraging as anyone could imagine. He knows me better than anyone else. He understands me more than anyone else. He makes me laugh. He's a hard worker who wants the best for our family. For the most part, our relationship is exactly what I imagined when I thought about the husband and marriage I wanted.

But there is one thing that's so far from perfect and last night, as I watched fireworks, it hit me.

I ain't gettin the kind of fireworks I want.

You get my drift, don't you? Fireworks. Yeah, those fireworks. When there are fireworks, I can't lie. It's quite a show. All the bells, whistles, and shooting sparks you can imagine. When the show does start, it's usually very good.

But the problem is, lately, there aren't as many shows as I'd like. Sometimes I try to get things going only to find my partner in pyrotechnics just isn't in the mood. I can't help but thinking of all those jokes people make about marriage--about how once there are rings exchanged, sex disappears.

Maybe it's the fact a 14-hour day has him exhausted. For a few days there was the sunburn that meant no one, including the World's Hottest Woman, was going to lay a finger on him. The nights his allergies have him sneezing his brains out aren't going to work either. Cause nothing is as hot as dripping snot all over your other half, right?

There are a million viable explanations for the fact we're not together as often as I would like, but let's face it. When you're a fat girl and your man is mumbling "Not tonight, honey..." only one thing goes through you're mind.

He's not attracted to you anymore.

He doesn't want to be with you because you're heavy.

The idea of being intimate with you grosses him out.

You're ruining your relationship because you can't keep your disgusting fat face from stuffing itself. Way to go, CCC.

(Okay, so that's more than one thing).

Last night after trying to see if a lazy day away from the office would help us not be so tired, I tried to drop some hints to see if I could light a fuse and shoot off some sparks.

Nothing.

I rolled over with a sigh and tried to fight the tears and tidal wave of self-doubt. Mr. CCC heard the few sobs that managed to escape and was asking me what was wrong. For a while I tried to play dumb and said my nose was stuffed up. But like I said above--he knows me more than anyone else and he didn't buy it. Before long I choked out the words..."You don't want to be with me because I'm fat..."

He hugged me close, wrapped his arms around me and said I was being silly...that he was just tired...that he loved me no matter what I weighed or how I looked and he was just tired. But the little voice in the back of my head would not quit. Why is he always so tired? Why doesn't he want you? Don't guys want sex all. the. time?

Eventually, we fell asleep and I woke up this morning in a funk, still feeling very, very down on myself. Still wondering what was going on. Still thinking I'm as fat as a cow and my husband has finally had enough.

I know it was a little easier to beat myself up because this hasn't exactly been the "back on track" week I wanted it to be (Two birthdays + Fourth of July = too many sweets to pass up on!). I was vulnerable to start with and my husband passing up on some quality time with me just kicked me while I was down.

In confessing my disappointment to my friends (because let's be honest here--it's not the first time I've been turned down), I discovered more women go through this than I thought...I got a lot of encouragement and support from women whose weights run the gamut saying they've been there...and it stinks.

But even though maybe we've all been there and women of all sizes have body issues, when you outweigh your husband and he turns you down, you do feel lower than low. You start asking questions, you're at a loss. You wonder if things would be different if you didn't weigh as much as you did, even though deep inside you do know he's tired. You do see the sunburn on his skin. You do know he's worked a 14-hour day.

You still feel unattractive and I hate feeling unattractive. I hate feeling this alone, this desperate, this lost. I hate wondering if my husband isn't attracted to me anymore. And I know when I lose this weight, I won't wonder that anymore.

I'm not saying my life will be perfect when the weight comes off. I know it won't be, but I know it'll be nice to know the negatives in my life won't be automatically connected to my weight, as they are now. I'll be able to take a step back and say, "okay, he's not in the mood tonight...let's figure out why" or "Okay, so you don't have the confidence to do XYZ...let's change that."

But in the meantime, while the numbers are still up there, the weight is a built-in excuse. For everything. I just don't want that anymore.