I was with my boyfriend Tom for nearly 4 years. When we first started dating, I weighed around 300 pounds. I was unhealthy and for the most part really unhappy with myself. My self-confidence had hit rock bottom and I was embarrassed of being in my own skin. I blamed myself for letting myself go and committed myself to doing better.
Tom was a great guy. We moved in together 6 months into the relationship, and we adopted a beautiful cat that we named Baby. Tom made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He adored me for who I was and couldn’t get enough of me in the bedroom. For the first time in a very long time, I was feeling good again. I decided that I was in a good position to start my weight loss journey. I wanted to do it all on my own, without the pressure of having to talk to people about my progress or setbacks, so I kept my goals secret, even from Tom. Since he usually worked later hours, he and I never ate our meals together, so he was completely unaware that I was sticking to a very strict diet. I struggled so much to stay on track but it was hard, especially since I had to prepare regular meals for Tom and not have a bite! I walked every day during my lunch break and went to the gym in the afternoon. I felt good inside and out, and I had Tom. Life was good.
One day while we were in bed, Tom asked me if I had lost weight. I told him that I lost a few pounds and he seemed more disappointed by it than excited for me. He said that he loved me as is and that I didn’t need to change. I told him that I was still the same girl, just a bit smaller. The conversation ended there. About 9 months into my journey, I had shed 85 pounds. One weekend, I put on a new sun dress that I had kept in the back of my closet for motivation. I couldn’t believe it fit! Tom took one look at me and said “what are you doing to yourself? It’s like you’re trying to become less attractive. Wouldn’t you want to keep your partner into you?” I fell into tears and I asked him what he meant by all of that. I said that I was proud of myself and he should want me to be healthier. He left that evening and didn’t come back for days. I was so worried, and so hurt at the same time. I finally had the idea of checking his computer to see if I could find any information on his whereabouts. What I saw was stomach-churning. He had tab after tab up with fetish porn; fat girls, short fat girls, and extremely fat girls. Ummm, I was a little disgusted by it all but didn’t read too far into it. That was until I came across a chat room for chubby chasers and a dating profile of his. He had message after message between himself and other women, detailing all of the sexual things he was into and asking them what they liked. Then there were several messages with women thanking him for a wonderful time and saying how much they loved being worshiped by him. That is why he had been so turned off by my losing weight, because he had a thing for big women and I was his live-in fetish. I thought back to all of the intimate moments between us. What I saw as love was nothing more than some sick sexual thing for him. I threw everything he had left in the house into trash bags and left them on the front porch. He texted me in the middle of the night to let me know that he had picked his stuff up and said that I would regret losing him because he was the only one to ever love me through all that fat. I stenciled the message onto the wall in my workout room. I used it as motivation, and a year later I finally painted over it, weighing in at 140lbs.