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“Darling, do I look fat?” is a question that can plunder your happiness like how the invaders looted the wealth of our, otherwise richer country.
You don’t want her to get hurt by speaking the truth and at the same time you can’t afford to hurt yourself by uttering it. Well, whoever said that silence is gold exactly meant this situation.
But, only if the world was a simpler place to live in where the partner wouldn’t nag you with the same question until you obviously lie. Hmmm, what to do, matter of survival…you see.
But what is our hatred with the extra pound of flesh? Why don’t we like it when people say you’ve put on weight (atleast I take it offensive much worse than abusing)?
Specially, if the criticism comes from your better half, it gets hurting. So much so that many World Wars have been fought in the family with Baba commenting and Ma reciprocating.
“He says I walk like a tortoise,” complained my Maa when Baba took her for monthly medical check-up. Her annoyance reached its peak and she gave up medications to teach him a lesson. Fearing her well-being we all jumped into the scenario and Baba had to take his words back. Rather he went a step ahead (that is marital love) and proclaimed her much slimmer in comparison to the month before.
I never knew why it pinches so much, until it happened to me. The hubby came online after few days and the only thing he said was that my face looked rounder. “Bang” the head sprang. How dare he? Didn’t he pledge to take me the way I am? Didn’t he promise to love me in my heavier or leaner side in front of the holy pyre?
Then I thought of the age-old tradition of weighty issues and related fights. I am the latest entrant, maybe. So be it.
Just an afterthought, why can’t husbands be less critical of wifey details?
