It was over. I sat on the curb surrounded by all my belongings three garbage bags and two boxes, Blubbering like an idiot . Behind me in the house was the furniture, carpets and decor that my husband and I had saved for months to afford. My marriage was over, I’d been replaced by another girl. My life was finished and I’d just turned 18.
I was devastated, not so much about losing my husband because he was an asshole. One time he’d locked me in a wardrobe for hours with a crazy dog named Suzuki to teach me a lesson in “who was right”. It was more the fact that I was so easily replaced that bothered me. Him choosing someone else over me was a huge blow to my pride, unforgivable. Besides I’d only married the fool to make his mum mad, how dare he discard me like yesterdays news.
Over the course of our 3 year relationship I went from svelte to cheese melt , I will readily admit that I gained a lot of weight. In fact I was so aware and excepting of my weight gain that I even acted like a good sport when my father-in-law would poke fun. He had this one joke about how I‘d run home thinking someone was following me, only to discover it was my own huge ass following behind me. In my defense though I‘d only gotten fat because I quit smoking, which in my opinion is an admirable reason to bulk up. Another point I’d like to make in my defense is that I’d had to take up the culinary delight that is deep fat frying to be worthy of a Yorkshire mans wife.
Being a good cook was important to my marriage because my housekeeping skills left a lot to be desired. Not to mention I had to work extra hard to balance out my insane jealousy, which apparently was a trait that had gone out of style at the same time humans had stopped living in caves. When he initially told me it was over because he’d fallen for another girl my first reaction was to be disgusted with myself . Any self loving individual would have seen him for the pig he was, not me. I couldn’t stop thinking maybe if I hadn’t let myself get so fat he wouldn’t have needed to look elsewhere. So it was my fault. I sat there crying shamelessly on the curb waiting for my step-dad Charles to pick me up………..(to be continued)
