Oh lord have mercy, I'm going to regret this response in the broad light of dawn, but here goes.
I only hope it helps somebody, somewhere.
Just another example of how cheating with a younger thinner AP can change a BS.
I’m scheduled to take the risk of surgical complications and five hours of general anesthesia at a hefty price tag in order to have a flatter stomach and perkier breasts in mid August.
I am someone who always prided myself in deciding for myself what’s important in life. Since I was young, I thought the people who valued the rare beanie babies, diamonds or Faberge eggs were fools. I looked at women on the plastic surgery merry go round with pity. I never wanted to model the plastic surgery mindset to my beautiful daughters. The old me would have given that $ to a good cause. Yet here I am. This is what I want. It’s not hard to figure out why.
The saddest part is I know that there will always be women who are younger and thinner who will be willing to have sex with my husband because he has money.
Sister, I have already been through *this entire metamorphosis.* And, like you, I considered myself *the most unlikely candidate.*
Until, that is, I found out that my husband had, years earlier, cheated on me at the first anonymous, plausibly deniable opportunity he had, when he had 'borrowed' the funds we had saved and set aside for our first house in order to take this trip, while I was (a full time outside of the home working wife and mother) sitting at home with two sick babies, answering to my own boss who was not pleased with my absence (both babies came down with chicken pox within hours of his departure on this glamorous trip, and YES, he knew that, *before* his 'indiscretion.')
I've always had a curvy figure. I think I was born into Misses' sizes. But, on the other hand, I've always been fit, toned, even 'athletic.'
I lost *every last ounce and some* that I'd 'gained' during pregnancy. I had a physically active career (clinical health care) and an active gym membership.
I was *the exact same size* that I was *when Husband first laid eyes on me* at the moment when he cheated on me-
- and he cheated on me with someone who was, by his account, more 'zaftig' than me. And, by his description, more scarred by childbirth than me, and quite likely, older than me.
She was, simply, easy and available for purchase, and attractive enough for that moment.
It was, honestly, less about her and much, much more about my husband's frame of mind and context in that moment.
And I say that as no insult to her. I do not look down on her in any way. I hope she got herself to the place that she wanted and needed to be.
He'd dated women who were heavier than me.
He'd dated women who were skinnier than me.
He'd dated women who were bustier than me.
He'd dated women who were hippier than me.
He married me.
And then, he pulled me through the fucking wringer.
Not only by cheating on me early in the marriage, while I was at home supporting his 'flight of fancy' while tending to his/our two sick babies...
... but by subsequently walking off of me to pursue every other kind of validation to try to figure out WHAT IN THE EVER LIVING HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM.
HE'S STILL WORKING ON THAT.
Here's the thing:
Fatter than you?
Skinnier than you?
Older than you?
Younger than you?
It doesn't matter.
It honestly does not.
SHE/HE IS OTHER THAN YOU, that's the thing.
For someone who is fundamentally damaged and flawed-
all it has to be is 'Other Than You.'
These flawed, damaged people are trying on lives, trying on identities, trying on mittens and underwear and socks and pants and jobs and projects and initiatives and life partners like they are all interchangeable, trying to find *something* that works...
... when the entire point is, until they understand themselves, and fix their own damage, *nothing* will suit.
In the meantime:
We get scrambled up in their 'Plug and Play,' 'Try this pair on!' 'Does this identity make me look fat?' bullshit.
Because, apparently, it works for them, right? (Only it doesn't...)
If surgically altering your own body will give you back some of the sense of time and youth and wasted effort that you've lost trying to figure out what in the hell is wrong with Mr. I Have No Idea What Makes Me Happy, go for it.
You'll come out with a bitchin' new body, and you know what? He'll come out with a new found sense of 'other' and an insecurity he hasn't felt in decades. (Pardon me for a moment: HA HA HA HA HA HA HARDEE HARDEE HO HO HO HEE HEE HEE! lololol)
Or, he won't give a fuck one way or the other.
Either way, you'll have your new body, and a definitive answer.
If he doesn't care, he's already gone. Good Riddance. Enjoy the New You.
If he *does* care- you have an entirely new paradigm. I'm here to tell you- it's not easy.
My husband *loves* my 'new body,' and I kinda hate him for that.
Because, truthfully, my 'old body' wasn't a train wreck, and was distinctly young for my age, and yet due to my husband's own issues and glitches, it was largely, ignored.
Didn't have to be. I did then and I now continue to attract plenty of other men. It was his problem, not mine.
Furthermore, I loved him and his body through all of its various foibles and iterations, some of which were sincerely *trying to the soul.*
As of right now, I enjoy, for myself, having my clock turned back to enjoy the youth that my husband wasted on his own unaddressed damage.
Do it for *you,* Sister. Do it for *you.* Please, please, please, I beg of you- understand the risk, understand the resultant pain and recovery, and if it's not worth it for YOU- DON'T DO IT.
DO IT FOR YOU, AND ONLY IF IT IS WORTH IT FOR YOU- AND IF NOT, DON'T DO IT.
DO NOT DO IT FOR HIM.
TRUST ME, HE HAS ALREADY RENDERED HIMSELF IRRELEVANT.*
*When *he* is ready to get a ball lift, a dick implant, testosterone injections, a tummy tuck, a butt lift, love handle liposuction, hair implants, a face lift and a character implant, THEN WE CAN TALK.
[This message edited by marriageredux959 at 2:55 AM, July 14th (Tuesday)]