Ok, so I left you with the size 4 Jenny, gearing up to be a flight attendant. That lasted about a year before I realized that a: the job isn't glamorous and b: I had dependency issues with my then boyfriend (the college-era lover, Tom, who I refer to as "The One I Should Have Married"). I quit, moved back home (sorry mom) and began the journey that led me to here.
The size 4 suit went into the closet and once again I found myself perched on the little ledge between 10 and 12. And that's where I stayed, through several jobs, a couple more boyfriends and a few apartments. And that's where I was when I first met Big Daddy. Stayed there, too, up until...
You think weight is an issue when it's all about you? Try growing a human being in your body, then you go from the Bunny Hill to the Black Diamond of weight mountains. Being pregnant, to me, was a nine month pass to shove whatever looked, smelled or tasted good straight into my gaping pie hole, chewing optional. Granted, I was starving most of the time, but looking back now I think maybe eating two Party Pizzas at a time was overkill.
I think I may have mentioned this before but I gained exactly 70 lbs. with all four pregnancies. To the pound. It's as though my body got to a certain point and some metabolic bouncer stepped in. The babies ranged in weight from 8 lbs. 2 oz, to 10 lbs. 3 oz. but that old magic number 70 stayed the same. I topped 200 pounds for the first time, I believe the biggest I got was 220. The weight usually came off relatively quickly after each baby, but after the last one I had a harder time of it.
Ironically enough, it was at this point in time that I think Big Daddy started his secret life. Maybe part of me knew what was a-brewin' and was insulating in anticipation of the big storm. Who knows..but either way I was up to about a size 18-20 when he dropped the bomb on our life.
There had been signs that he was less than pleased with my girth. One night, at dinner, I reached over the table to pour a glass of milk for one of the kids...Big Daddy flicked the blob of fat hanging from my upper arm and said, "Boing!". I know, what was he doing in insurance and finance when obviously a career in stand up was calling, right? Oh well. This was one of his special ways of saying, "Hey, Fatty...I'm screwing a shiny faced secretary and this ham-hock is the reason why." Well, maybe not in those exact same words, but you get the idea.