Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Monday, March 14, 2011
I know, I'm supposed to love you for what's inside and all that goodness. I can't tell you what I really think, because you mean a lot to me and I don't want to lose you. When we met I made an extra effort to go to the gym so I could look good for you, and feel good for me. I feel great. But you slowly started packing it on, to the point where its become painfully obvious. Girl on top has become a chore for you, and I've lost a great view due to the belly hang.
Not only that, it has totally affected your mood and confidence—both of which plummeted. I feel like an ass, but I'm admitting it, I'm finding your body and new pessimistic outlook less and less attractive. I've tried asking if anything is bothering you, if you're worried or sad, making you healthy food, taking you for walks—I'm genuinely concerned—both for your well-being and our relationship.
If I bring it up, I look like a shallow prick. I'm afraid to say anything because if I do, and you gain more, you'll be even more upset. I'm not asking for you to try just for me (ok, slightly partially for me, hey, I'm being honest) but you are miserable and we all miss your smile. —FatSad GF = Confused/Frustrated/Worried BF
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