Broken Promises

imagesI 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.

 

8 thoughts on “Broken Promises

  1. There are many who, when they make a promise, their word is just that. And unfortunately their are many who lack the moral barometer to even consider keeping a promise. You obviously found the latter. May your future be filled with the former…. There are “good” people out there, the challenge often is to find them…..

  2. I will try not to make you any promises. I don’t like trying to keep them. Trying means I don’t want to and then we have an unpleasant situation. I want to help you in your quest and my efforts in that direction seem to be providing me with personal growth. So perhaps I am using you for my own personal benefit. You may use me in like manner if it suits.

    I don’t agree that exercise has anything to do with burning fat although it is good for your overall well being and muscle tone if done properly and in moderation. Diet has everything to do with gaining or losing weight if your insulin system is faulty or has been compromised such as by years of dietary abuse. That people tend to attempt both diet and exercise together confuses the matter. My opinion and experience and research.

    I am generally against surgery unless it is necessary. Too much risk. I almost literally lost a foot due to complications of a simple foot surgery to remove accessory bones. I have my own rather large pit of a scar on my left outer foot. I would support breast reduction surgery if there are back problems or other real issues.

    I don’t promise to like you. I do like you. I don’t promise to read your blogs but I do anxiously read them. I don’t promise to care but I can’t help it. I don’t promise to be here every day but I don’t see it any other way.

    As I write these things a promise seems even more to be a pledge to do something you don’t want to do. See? Once again I have taken advantage of you and gained an insight. I do hope it happens again and again.

    Promise?

    • Sir,
      I agree; after years of too many surgeries, many that went awry and required further surgery, elective surgery is not something I particularly look forward to. In fact, I had never thought of it, until he suggested it… but it was the mere fact he had been so unhappy with part of me, I had wanted to make him so happy, it was simply not meant to be.

      As a little girl, not once did I ever dream of living happily ever after; I never had dreams of a big wedding day with a white dress, as I hear many girls do… I did not dream of a knight in shining armor. Mostly, I wanted to get the heck out of Dodge.

      However, when something was dangled in front of me like a prize, I must admit, i took the bait. I thought it was a gem worth receiving; and I earned it. I ate properly, and I worked out diligently. Every Friday night, my husband and daughters ate pizza from the local delivery place; I had a Boboli with olive oil, onions, tomato slices, and garlic salt. When we went to the movies, I had water while they had delicious buttery popcorn… my favorite.

      It stung.

      But, I have learned to live with the disappointments life has handed me time and again; except when I haven’t. At those times, unfortunately, I sink into a suicidal depression that wraps it’s fingers around my neck for days at a time…

      Somehow… it seems to let go, and I breathe again.

      Always,
      Me

  3. I will not pretend to not be aware of your potential for suicidal tendencies. It saddens and concerns me. There have been times when I almost edit myself for fear of affecting the wrong way. I do not have any idea how to help you along these lines. I can only offer you my honesty, my friendship and my open heart and hope I stumble blindly into something that will keep you around and make it all worthwhile. I cannot offer more than I give now because my first priority is my wife. But I do smile at the thought of you and want to keep you here always.

    • This is non-fiction; everything I write about on my blog is a reflection about my life. The only exception would be two stories, 1) the story of Shep, which was a story my dad used to tell my brother, sisters, and me as children, and 2) You’ve Got Mail, a story of suicide that I wrote… to get it out of my mind instead of acting on it.

      Thank you for reading. I certainly appreciate it.
      Always, Me

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