Chapter 1

I had barely wrapped the towel around myself before I heard his exasperated sigh. As she turned, I knew where this was going. It was where it always went. He was going to make a comment about my weight again.

"Lizzy, how much do you weigh now?" he said, his eyebrows furrowed with disappointment. I didn't have a clue, but I knew I had gained weight again over the last six months. It had been a steady climb; the last time I checked, I was 205.

"I don't know, Ben," I said, my face flushing with embarrassment. He had been on me for the last year about my figure-mind you, I was never a small thing. On our wedding day, I had weighed 185, and that was two years ago.

"Well, you should check, Liz," he said with a hint of passive-aggressiveness in his voice.

"I have to get ready for work," I responded. "I can check tonight."

"You know we have that vacation in six months with all our friends," he said. "I just want to make sure you-"

"Aren't going to embarrass you with my weight?" I interrupted, grabbing another towel to wrap around my head. It was maddening; I had never been a skinny girl. I had always had big hips, a bigger butt, and always carried a little bit of a belly. He didn't complain back then.

My husband wanted a thick girl, not a fat one. His comments had been becoming more frequent the more full my love handles became-the more dimples that would show up on my butt. It was like he could see when a new roll was forming on midsection, and it was driving him crazy.

"It will only take two seconds," he pleaded. As came behind me and steered me towards the little gray digital scale that sat in our bathroom.

"It will only take two seconds," he pleaded, coming up behind me and steering me toward the little gray digital scale that sat in our bathroom.

"Ben, I will do it later!" I shouted.

"Liz, seriously, just get on the scale," he said, his hands placed on my hips. I let out a long sigh and stepped toward it. "We need to make sure it's accurate."

Ben reached up and removed the towel from my wet hair, letting the water drip down onto my shoulders, before reaching around and pulling the other towel away. I looked down, feeling completely exposed-at my breasts and the part of me he complained about most: my belly, which looked round, with the faint silver of stretch marks starting to become visible.

I knew my face was bright red; I could feel the heat as I placed my first foot on the scale. Little dashes flickered, waiting for the second foot to join it.

"Fine, just stop harassing me about it!" I growled. I stood still and watched the numbers start to climb. I watched them fly past 205, then 210, finally settling on 213.

"Jeez, Lizzy, you're almost 215 now," he remarked. I could feel his gaze raking over my pear shaped body. "Your butt is getting pretty big, too."

"You know, it's pretty rude to talk about my weight, even if you are my husband. Besides, I always thought you liked how big my butt was. Didn't you say it was the first thing that caught your eye?"

"I mean, of course, but it was a different kind of big back then. Now it looks like it could barely fit into anything you used to wear."

I quickly shuffled to our bedroom, digging through the closet and pulling out my size sixteen black pants. He was right; when we first started dating, I was a size twelve and it was actually a bit loose. Now, the size I wore was starting to feel tight around my hips and thighs. I snatched a dark green blouse and pulled it over my wet hair. As I straightened it over my belly, I realized it was starting to feel tight, too.

It came at the most inopportune time-my stomach rumbled and growled. This was usually the time I'd be heading out to work and making a stop for breakfast.

"How about this, Liz," Ben said from the doorway. "We come up with a diet plan that works for your lifestyle. Maybe start by eating out less."

"How about you just let me go to work and not worry about what I eat right now?" I snapped back.

I grabbed my things and rushed out the door, fighting back tears as I climbed into my car. As I pulled out of the driveway, the first tear escaped and streamed down my cheek. My hair was still wet and I was starting to sob as I drove toward work, my stomach growling again. As I approached my usual spot-the fast food place where I always got a breakfast sandwich-I steered the car into the drive-thru lane, pulling in behind another car.

"I'm so sick of this! I'm not even that big!" I shouted to myself, wiping my eyes as the line moved forward and I followed.

"What can I get for you today?" a crackling voice asked through the speaker.

"Can I get a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit, please? With a medium coffee."

"Anything else we can get for you today?"

As I wiped away another tear, I was suddenly filled with a hot flash of anger. The words seemed to pour out of me, fueled by pure resentment. "Actually, can I add a large Coke with that?"

"Sure. Anything else?"

"Hmm, let me think."

"Take your time, ma'am."

I stared at the menu board, Ben's comments about "eating out less" looping in my head like a broken record. "Can I also get an additional sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit?" I paused, then added, "And you know what? A bacon, egg, and cheese, too."