My Husband Loves a Phat Chic

My Husband Loves a PHAT Chic

Mature Audience Only

Ever since I have gained weight, I have been embarrassed to sleep with my husband. Now, I am not the only one that has picked up some pounds in the relationship, but my ego was still bruised all the same. I once loved to wear lingerie; even get a few costumes like a maid's outfit (I love to play the French maid, I had to make those damn French classes in college pay off in some sort of way) or a naughty school girl. I never went as far as the chicken suit like in Something About Last Night, but I did like to be very adventurous.

Once I began to approach and exceed the 175 mark, that is when the playfulness stopped. Don't get me wrong, we still had sex. It just wasn't as fun as it used to be. It was still good, but my insecurities kept me from fully enjoying myself. I am the biggest now that I have ever been in my life. Add on handfuls of pills and bi-nightly injections for my chronic illnesses and I completely lost my mojo. In my mind, I wasn't attractive, so how could he find me attractive? Not saying he is shallow, but I myself was a little vain.

Raising a child and working two jobs didn't help his sex drive much either. We rarely saw each other, let alone had the time to be intimate. I had once heard that sex got better in your 30's, but WTF? Was it true that because I gained weight that I had to waive bye bye to our once great sex life? Honestly, for awhile it did, I didn't even want him to see me naked anymore. Not even in my bra and panties. I began to buy moo moos and big t-shirts and pajama pants to bed. I hated to initiate foreplay because I was scared of rejection.

That was until life started to slow down. I was getting a better grip on my illness. My husband began to work just one job. My daughter had reached the age to frequent sleeping with us (thank goodness that dog on Boogie Man got his life!). It wasn't just that, we had more time to spend together. Even if that involved hearing the theme song for Sports Center played in every room for what seemed to be every second of the day, I was more than happy to have him back. That intimacy spilled over into the bedroom and the actual act became less important as the foreplay and cuddling were now the high points for me. I felt wanted. I felt desired. I felt loved...it was even better than the sex! If a few pounds (well more than a few pounds) could make me feel like this in his arms, screw those French classes. We were now speaking the language of love!