As promised, this is the follow-up to "Sally Needs" ... To Tell You About Her First Time (In Love). You should read it first. It's sweet and sexy and sad and, well...
Go ahead, read it. I'll wait.
So will the others who read it already and are out for blood.
You'll want to kill the guy too, the one I loved, who knew the leap of faith it meant, the fragile trust I offered ... accepted my gift, seemed to cherish it, then casually stepped on it the way you crush a bug.
Here's the crux of the story, with the surprising conclusion repeated verbatim:
Brad was 15 years older, divorced, followed by a long term relationship with Barb. He and Barb split up, he moved into my apartment house.
We became friends, then lovers. I fell completely in love with him. I thought he was The One. We were together almost a year. He even met my parents.
Then came my four-day business trip. On the other end, Valentine's Day, a weekend. We hadn't made specific plans, but then we never did, we were always together. Almost always.
I returned from the trip, called him. No answer. Knocked on his door, used my key. Empty. Odd. But my radar was off. I was in full Trust Mode. You'd think spending that weekend alone without hearing from him would alarm me, but no.
Ah, denial. Total. Denial.
Monday I was sitting in my office, sorting through the files from my trip. The phone rang. Him. 'How was your trip?' Huh? 'Uh, fine, but where were you this weekend?' Not accusing, I was puzzled. 'Oh that.' Silence.
(This is harder than I thought, even after all these years. Okay, here goes...).
"Well," he said, "I wanted to tell you about that. Barb and I got married this weekend."
The Crash
"You... you're married? You and Barb got married?" There was a buzzing in my ears. I felt lightheaded. My chest hurt.
"Yeah," he said, I think he said, "We decided it was time."
YOU FUCKING DECIDED WHAT???? (I didn't actually say that.)
"Oh. Well. Okay. Congratulations?" was all I could get out. I felt breathless, my heart was pounding, I was starting to sweat.
"Thanks. Thank you, Sally. For everything. It was lovely. You're lovely."
LOVELY??? LOVELY??? WHAT AM I, A HOSTESS GIFT??? (I didn't actually say that either.)
You want to know why he did it. How he could dump me so unceremoniously. You want details. I never got them. He didn't offer to explain and I didn't ask. Because in a sudden flash of clarity, I understood.
I was his placeholder. His "lovely" doorstop.
The break-up with Barb had been about marriage. He ran. Soothed his ego with me. Played house, realized he liked it. Went back to familiar, long term Barb for the real deal.
Barb was --yes, really-- patiently waiting for him to get over his little nutty and commit to marriage. With her. She had no idea I thought he was my real deal. Neither. Did. He. I simply held no lasting interest for either of them.
Yeah, pretty damn deflating. And worse ... my mother had been right.
Back to the phone call. Actually, if he kept talking I didn't hear. I don't remember hanging up.
The buzzing had become a roaring river of sound, filling my head, rushing through my body. I recall moving from my desk toward the door in hazy slow motion, reaching for the doorknob, so far away, stopping to hold onto the wall as the pain in my chest grew sharper.
My office seemed to pulse, contract, press in on me. My body seemed to do the same.
Hard. To. Breathe.
I was thinking this is stupid, what a dumb reaction, oh it hurts. He's married? This is just anger, okay maybe panic, nothing's wrong. It hurts. They got married?? No! NO! Why does it hurt so much?
Tears streamed down my face, the room was spinning, rocking, pain knifing through my chest. I doubled over, wrapped both arms around my ribcage, rocking, telling myself you're okay, just breathe. Oh god, the pain.
I felt sobs rippling, bubbling inside, but I couldn't suck in enough air to let them out. Oh I hate you! I thought. I can't even cry! Oh you are such an asshole! I thought. Oh, I'm such a big baby, I thought. Why does it hurt so much?
WAIT! Wait wait wait! I know this pain! Oh no! It can't be this pain! My mind was screaming, Not Again!
I was having another pulmonary embolism, a deadly blood clot like the one that had brought me Near Death, in the wake of this devastating blow to my spirit.
And I thought, how fitting. I'd been dumped to death. A human metaphor, I would die of a broken heart.
As I hit the floor I realized I didn't want to die. I wanted to live.
The Burn
In fact, he hadn't broken anything (well, my ego, my trust, my self-esteem, all badly damaged). The clot had been forming during the long plane rides on my trip.
I was the perfect candidate for an embolism. History of blood clots. On the Pill. Overweight. (Yes, we'll get to that).
The clot might have hit me a day or an hour before or after the fateful phone call. But, well, I'm me and if it's going to happen, it's bound to be dramatic.
Somebody heard me fall, rushed in, ambulance, hospital. Yes, it was a PE. And yes, I came close to death. Again. But I got oxygen and blood thinners and pain killers in time. Plus, I was too pissed off to die.
Oh, was I angry. Outraged. Furious. Lying in the hospital, I imagined hurting him in so many ways. Better, I wanted to watch. I wanted to revel in his agony. Salve my wounds with his pain. Hear him beg. Cry for mercy.
I wanted to Watch. Him. Die.
Hold on. My pain was gone. Physically. Metaphysically. Just like that, I stopped caring. More important than revenge, the second PE was a warning. And, an opportunity. I needed to radically change my life. Get healthy. Strong. Safe.
A week in the hospital, then home, not the apartment, never again that apartment. Back to my own house in Philly where I'd lived with my friends ever since college.
The job ... over. The relationship ... over. The love I'd felt ... gone. The old me ... soon to be gone.
The Freeze
Denial can be your friend, you can make it work for you. That's what I did. I put his betrayal in a box, closed the lid. Told my friends, don't tiptoe. Life goes on.
I remember hearing Brad and Barb had a big reception, whatever, I didn't care. Emotionally, I was frozen. For the time being, that was good.
Mentally, I had a good, long think. I looked in the mirror. Examined my clothes. Got on the scale. Looked in the mirror some more. And found my truth.
It was time to stop being fat. And start being free.
Sure, it was a health issue. It was also a mental health issue ... the reason for the weight. A wall of fat. You've heard therapists use that phrase. That was me, hiding behind a wall of fat.
I didn't look dangerously obese (though clearly, I was). Just heavy enough to keep my natural seductiveness from working too well. To control who wanted me, who got me ... and prevent anyone from getting too close. Close enough to find the real me inside.
Brad had been an aberration. He didn't care about my weight. And a wake up call. He didn't care about me. Hmm. So I gave myself to the wrong guy for the right reasons while he was using me --really, abusing me-- for the worst reasons. That would never happen again.
Because I was ready to remove the fat cocoon and become the butterfly inside.
I'm going to show you pictures. You can start with the photo from the top. Look again, here. I am, in fact, almost as wide as the doorway. Yep.
Before: After:
The Thaw
Losing weight wasn't hard. Because all those extra pounds didn't belong there. I helped them melt off me. Slowly. Carefully. Forever.
Understand this: I didn't waste away from unrequited love. I stepped away from destructive self-loathing.
I learned to appreciate myself, trust myself, compete with myself. Go for personal best, inside and out. Make that mean something real, important. Life-affirming.
So I worked out, ran, played, ate light, went to work, hung out with my friends. No men. Moratorium. Of course they started lining up. Nothing more interesting to 20-something (or any) men than a woman who isn't interested in them.
Within one year I lost 75 pounds. Oh. Yes. I. Did. Nobody ever realized how heavy I was. I hid it well. Knew how to dress. Have a small face. Always had good legs, pretty good arms. My bio father once described me as "a barrel on two toothpicks." Cruel, but basically true.
Even in pictures you have to look twice. But you'll see it. I threw out that barrel, crawled out of the carapace. Made my strong muscles stronger. Became lean and mean. Well, not mean. Instead, I got even.
Better, I got a new Sally. The right Sally. Self-confident, happy, healthy, brave, proud. Flaws? Sure. Insecurities? Who doesn't have a few?
But no one would ever walk on me, or walk out on me, again.
And guess what? No one ever did.
The Flowering
Double chin: One chin:
On the way down:
Sweatin all the way down: Oh yes I did!
Another Before and After:
And finally, as advertised, FLESH......
Before, sucking in but displaying my bodacious curves (got guys, too)
Still, better to be cut and have THE guy (my husband)
Epilogue - Revenge Served Cold
Yes, I did see Brad again. Three years later. He called, was coming to town, would I like to have coffee. I met him at his hotel, went right up to his room.
I was, frankly, smokin hot. Pencil skirt, high heeled leather boots, silk blouse, form-fitting blazer. Sleek and sexy. Oh, engaged too. A tigress. The look on his face was priceless. The best payback ever.
He was stunned. Speechless. Almost drooling. All I could think was, what did I see in you? How could I love you? Why didn't I see though you?
And I told him, calmly, did you know I was in love with you back then? Did you think saying 'I love you' and a week later marrying someone else without warning was, what, cool?
He began to sputter, tried to apologize. Reached out to me. I stepped back, smiled, gently shook my head, no. His eyes filled with tears. He didn't know he'd hurt me. He shouldn't have been so cruel. Would I ever forgive him?
Sure, I said. It's no big deal. Obviously I got over it. I just thought you should know. In case you're planning to do it to someone else. Don't. She might die.
Me, I'm going to get married and live ... happily ever after.
Which is exactly what I did.
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Max Rivlin-Nadler
drlaura2
Kristina Lakes
mhold
L in the Southeast
Jane Brogan
Salon.com
Comments
And as usual we are on the same wave length! Today I wrote Pitt 3 in Shanghai, over on my blog. Not your ending, and a different kind of flesh, but a finish. Thanks for the piggyback, SS!
Lea, we cross posted! From LL to SS, we rock the joint! Ah, the joy of living hearty and well.
Roger, thanks for the reminder, I totally forgot to add a picture to show I am officially HAWTER than Freaky! Even nekkid. ;)
What your story puts a very personal face (and body) on is the theme that runs through a lot of my posts here that are intended not to disparage love, but to encourage people to think a lot more clearly about what that word means -- or should mean. It's only with that kind of mature understanding and appreciation for love that it has any hope of lasting. As Sandra Miller put it, I'm a Pragmatic Romantic -- and it sounds like you are, too.
Lisa, we can be each other's heroes, okay? I too love that I lived the fantasy... because I freakin earned it. And thank you for knowing that.
Denise, he got what he deserved, a lousy second marriage (still going, but let them suffer, eh) and the memory of what he could have had. Tough. My hubby won.
Michael, thanks for getting it too and for appreciating the pain and struggle. And (shh) you can cop a quick feel of my buns of steel any time... ;)
Inspiration, pure and simple.
I'm gonna see if I can get Mrs. Cap'n to break my heart so I can do the same thing.
~~Marcela, it took some work, but really, I was a naturally slim person trapped in "safety fat" so it was relatively easy to regain my metabolism. Glad you liked the photos, was fun for me.
~~Seattle, I have to admit, the *fuck you* ending was very satisfying.
~~spud, thanks a lot. Don't worry, I kicked dipshit's ass for you. And I love the ending too. Nice when life works out that way.
~~Susanne, those were my honeymoon arms... all the pics are from the period of the story. Not bad now, but well, gravity makes them harder to maintain, especially recovering from rotator cuff surgery.
~~Cap', ~~Mrs. Michaels, you got it, best revenge is living... and living well.
~~Cat, I can tell you where he is if you have that fork handy...
~~Cindy, sorry you didn't get your last laugh. My story is total fact, one of the few times closure stepped up.
~~Nora, funny you should ask about any other PE's. I had one more (not due to weight, but surgery) in the 90's. I now have something called a Greenfield Filter to keep clots from reaching danger zones. And my last checkup showed a vascular system of the athlete I am. Yeaaa me! And thanks for asking.
Rated!
LadyM, thanks, a WOW and an 'awesome' are Always welcome.
Tijo, sorry to boil your blood. If you're a very good boy, I'll send you the whole photo of that hunk. Hetero, briefly mine while on vacation, but still, eye candy for all. Btw, I love to be inspiring.
mer, right back atcha!
Art does imitate life I realize ( finally).
Way to go.
You are lovely in all the photos because beauty comes from within.
Rated
Happiness is the best revenge. Thumbed for happily ever afters.
Way to go Sally!
Daniel
And I want your steely resolve, too.
P.S. You really got 'hot' there in those after photos. Found myself falling for you a little there.
P.S. You really got 'hot' there in those after photos. Found myself falling for you a little there.
so refreshing that you skipped the wallowing stage - you know... the whole life is unfair/poor me thing
instead you got up..dusted yourself off and created something wonderful- and this time i'm NOT just talking about appearance
this should serve as a life lesson to many
great great post
thanks
But...
James, Bill E, angus, welcome! Hope to see you again.
angus has summed up exactly what happened, so I guess I should too...
dbwink, to answer Bill and others and your questions I'm going to do a follow up post about losing weight and gaining self-esteem.
Karin, you inspire me ALL the time! Believe me, he wanted you back. Who wouldn't???
Also..holy fucktastic!
Well done!!
cartouche, Thank. You.
Theo, yep, I need a new avatar with new glasses. I do have longer looser hair since that pic, which is from a religious Jewish wedding. (At least I didn't have to wear a wig).
Persephone, mega-ditto!