Because my husband loves me

Husband loves me very much.

I am very glad of that. The trouble is he loves my flab too.

Not too much of it, you understand, but enough to cuddle and get hold of. 'Women don't understand what men like,' he says. 

I suppose that's true. As I noted, it was men who grumbled at me last time I successfully lost weight. (I'm sure there are feminists out there objecting fiercely to my words but I am me and think and write like this and I am not above using my feminine wiles to get things done for me. But that's probably the subject for another post on another blog.)

I look in the mirror - on the rare occasions I dare - and I see my ugly white flabby belly and hips. I see nothing attractive at all. And I hate it. So when offered, for example, a piece of cake, I should have the incentive to say no ... but then I think, 'So what's a piece of cake? Husband loves me as I am,' and my hand reaches out and ...

Therein lies one of my problems.

Husband says, 'I will support you in your desire to lose weight because I know that being slimmer makes you more confident but I am happy with you as you are.'

Wonderful words, supportive, encouraging, loving. So why don't I settle for that? Rejoice and find confidence in my husband's love. 

A conundrum.