One evening, we were getting ready for Ryan’s company dinner. After twenty minutes of trying to make myself presentable, I pulled an old black dress from the closet.
It had always fit perfectly.
That night, the zipper stopped halfway up my back.
I sucked in my stomach and tried again.
Nothing.
Ryan stood behind me adjusting his cuff links. I caught his reflection in the mirror.
“Attraction matters.”
“You know I love you,” he said, “but attraction matters.”
I turned slowly.
“What?”
He shrugged.
“You became a mother, not an old woman. If you keep letting yourself go, eventually I’ll have no choice but to leave. You should respect your husband enough to stay beautiful for him.”
For a moment, I thought I’d misunderstood him.
“I had a baby four months ago.”
“I know.”
“I’m up half the night. I barely have time to eat.”
He sighed.
“Claire, plenty of women have babies and get themselves back in shape.”
I stared at him.
He was already irritated.
“I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m being honest.”
That night, after he fell asleep, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried as quietly as possible.
Our daughter stirred in the bedroom, and I immediately covered my mouth.
For the first time since marrying Ryan, I truly believed he might leave me.
The next morning, before I could change my mind, I put on my sneakers, strapped my daughter into her stroller, and started walking.
At first, twenty minutes was all I could manage.
