I am usually not one to ask for anything; or to believe somebody when they tell me they are going to give something to me, I simply did not have the kind of life where silly dreams and fantasies turned out to be true. Promises, to me, were something somebody told you to get you to do what they wanted you to do; perform a task, have sex, stay with them, it didn’t matter, it was all the same to me. I typically did as I was asked, I was compliant and submissive.
One year, after reuniting with my ex-husband, he wanted me to lose 90 pounds; he told me I was fat and it was unattractive. Acceptable; I was fat, and, it was unattractive. However, it was painful to hear; and incredibly difficult to lose the weight. I had packed on the pounds through a variety of bad habits, unhealthy eating, too much alcohol, and four years of 27 different medications to control my multiple diagnoses of mental illness.
Finally quitting the prescription meds, since I was more suicidal than ever, I thought I might be able to get control of my weight. It didn’t hurt with Hitler as my coach; I had to weigh myself in front of him every day, and email him a food journal of every calorie I ate. Additionally, I started a rigorous schedule of working out beginning at 4:30 every morning, on my lunch hour at work, and then again after work. All sans gym membership.
Day by day, I saw my weight drop; and in less than a year, I was down 90 pounds and had surpassed his goal for me by 15 pounds. Along the way, he had offered me little incentives to help me.
The biggest one was a “boob job”; not as if I had ever thought of one before, but when he presented it to me, I accepted. He always complained about my “too large” breasts; I had 36DDD, and he preferred an A cup. Even when I weigh 120 pounds, my chest is far larger than it should be for my frame; as a runner (before the unfortunate period of the 11 foot surgeries in 3 years) it was challenging, to say the least.
He offered a reduction if I met a goal of 135 pounds; apparently believing I would never meet the goal. When I exceeded his goal by 15 pounds, I asked him about his promise, his response was a flat, “I was never going to spend that kind of money on you. It was just a way to get you to lose weight.”
So it goes, so it goes.
Never mind the fact that I made at least as much as he did, and I believe about $10,000 more; or the point that he had bought a motorcycle for $8,000, wrecked it one day at a “track day”, bought another the day he was laid up for $8,000, (all cash), and spent 10’s of thousands of dollars day-trading, all lost. I never said a word.
Broken promises. Needless to say, I am not a fan.