weight loss: going well, relationship communication: need to work on

I'm kind of a weirdo. I carry around a lot of baggage leftover from my childhood. I was treated pretty badly in school. (But, who wasn't?) And my well-intentioned parents left me with a lot of issues. (We all have the same story, right?) And either because of that, or just my natural personality, I tend to hold a lot in. This can be good. I have a lot of inner strength and don't rely on other people for validation and attention. But, it can also be bad. Like when my boyfriend constantly asks what I'm thinking because he can't figure me out. He is a good guy and genuinely wants to understand me. I'm lucky.

I've been considering that problem and sorting it out in my head on my own instead of talking about it. (That's the way I do things, but perhaps that's the source of the problem. It's a bitch.) Over the last few days I've been thinking, “Why don't you tell him you're trying to lose weight? He lives with you. He eats with you. He knows you've become a food measuring freak. He can see you're exercising more. He's not going to sabotage you or become a drill sergeant or anything annoying like that. So, what's the problem? Own up. It'll be good for the coalescence of the relationship. And, bonus, he'll stop encouraging you to buy ice cream!

So, we had just finished dinner and were sitting at our friend's bar waiting for them to show up. We were feeling good and happy, so I thought it would be the perfect time to spill it.

“So, there's been something I've been meaning to tell you-”

Just then our friend's daughter walks in to the bar. I was going to tell my boyfriend about my diet in the interests of the relationship. I'm certainly not about to make it anyone else's business.

“But I'll tell you later, it's not a big deal.”

This, my friends, was a huge mistake. Don't ever do that to your poor boyfriend.

Him whispering: “What is it?”

Me whispering: “Nothing. Don't worry about it.”

Him whispering louder: “I'm going to worry. Just tell me. She doesn't understand much English anyway.”

Me (sigh): “It's just about weight-loss.”

Him practically shouting: “You think I need to lose weight?!?”

So a nice spike in the cortisol levels later, all my good intentions are squashed. (You're forgiven Mom and Dad. I understand how meaning well can co awry.) We did end up sorting it out. A little at the bar and a lot later at home. And he totally gets it and is cool. He loves me the way I am, but he wants me to be happy... and less sweaty and grumpy in summer, so he's down with it. He asked me if I wanted him to help me.

Me: “No, but don't ask me if I want a second slice of pizza. And don't bring me home ice cream.”

Him: “Check.”