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My Boyfriend Wants Me To Hit Size Twelve Before Christmas

My Boyfriend Wants Me To Hit Size Twelve Before Christmas

We dated for a year before he traveled out of the country three years ago. When he was here, we had an awesome moment as a couple but we didn’t have a lot of space to express what we had on the inside of us. We were both fresh graduates looking for a job. He was living with his parents and I was living with my parents too. My parents were the strict type. They were not the kind of parents you would walk up to and tell them, “Hey dad, meet my boyfriend.” He couldn’t meet my parents and I couldn’t meet his parents too. 

Luckily for me, I got a job and started getting busy. It was just around that time he mentioned to me that he was getting ready to travel out of the country. I thought it was a joke until the day arrived for him to go. Our relationship was still a baby but he loved me enough to ask me to wait for him. I said, “You know you’re all I have and I don’t have any problems with waiting. My only fear is that you’ll get there and drink from the cup of forgetfulness. Or maybe you’ll find someone to scratch your itch and forget about me. That’s my only fear. If you can promise to stay with me, why not? I will wait for you?”

He said, “Why will I find another when there is you? I also have the same fear. What if someone finds you while I’m gone? What if you find another man and keep me in the dark just in case that doesn’t work out? I know the story and I know how it ends for the lover who travels. So I’m equally scared.” I made him a promise; ”I will wait for you no matter what.” He made me a promise, “I will live my life with you in mind because you’re the only one I’m committed to.” 

He flew away and began a new life abroad. He was a student for a year. After that, he found a job that filled his days. He never let me go out of his mind and just as I promised him, I kept him at the fore of my mind through it all. It got to a point my parents started asking when I would bring a man home. I told my dad, “There’s someone already in my life. Just that he’s not in Ghana that’s why I haven’t brought him home.” He said, “You have a man abroad and you want to rely on him? You’re waiting for him because he’s the only man in this world?” My mom added, “You know how the story goes with these people who live far away. You’re growing. It’s about time you began nurturing a good relationship with someone closer. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. It’s a dangerous thing to do.” 

I stood firm until three years later he came back to Ghana. I took him home immediately. “Dad. Mom, here’s the man I’ve been talking to you about. He’s here at last.” My dad said, “Gentleman, “we’ve heard about you on several different occasions but we haven’t seen you physically. Good to be here. Now that you’re around, make something happen. My daughter is growing ooo. My daughter is growing.” He laughed. He said, “Dad, it’s in our plans. Very soon, you’ll hear from us.” He took me home to see her parents too. They were happy to see me. It was on that visit that he told me, “You’re growing fat oo. What have you been eating?” I said jovially, “It’s your absence that’s making me fat. I have no one to shake the fatness out of my skin. You have a job to do now that you’re here.”

We had a very good time together. We didn’t leave each other’s sight. Not for a single moment. I was his handbag when he was here. We went to places together. We had a lot of fun together as a couple until the time came for him to go. He said, “I hope I’ve done enough to shake out those flabby fats off your skin?” I said, “I will see the results later when you’re gone. I’m waiting for the manifestation of your work.”

It was all joke and fun until I was alone. I stood in the mirror looking at my curves and bends. I said, “Ah so which part of my body is fat that this guy won’t let me be?” I placed my two hands on my tummy. It was a little bit protruded—Just some inches. It wasn’t that bad. I told myself, “I will watch what I eat. I will work out a little bit to shake that off. I should be fine.”

Whenever we had a video call he mentioned it. Whenever I sent him a photo, he mentioned it. Whenever I posted a photo on Facebook, he made a comment about my size. I told him, “Yeah I know so stop reminding me every second. I’m working on it. He said, “So why don’t I see the results of your ‘working on it’?” I said, “Stop reminding me each day that I’m growing fat. I have my mind made up that I’m going to get back to my original size. Trust the process. I will make it work.”

He stopped talking about it for a few months. I was skipping. I was jogging once in a while. I was eating lean. I was fasting. I felt light in my own skin but the sad thing was each time I stood on the scale, I was at the same weight. Each time I looked in the mirror I looked fatter than I used to be. “Maybe it’s in my head.” I asked my mom, “Mom, any change?”  She responded, “Change from where? Ewuraa, just forget it. Dadaa naaa. Nothing has changed.” That broke my heart. I increased the tempo of the training and the lean eating but nothing changed. My confidence was on the low. When friends complimented me on the way I looked, I told them, “You don’t see how fat I’d become?” 

I ran away from video calls because I knew he was going to judge me. When he asked me to send him photos, I declined, telling him, “I’m the same girl you knew. Nothing has changed. Dadaa naaa.” I stopped the training. I forgot about everything and went back to eating and sleeping well. It was in August when he told me, “I would be coming to Ghana this December so get ready for me.” Then my size dawn on me again.

In August, I registered at a gym. I got myself a trainer who doubled as my accountability partner. September, October I worked out like crazy. I needed to hit that size by all means. It was working. My trainer commended me. I felt the change in my soul and was confident about it. I sent him a photo early this month. I was at the gym. I was in my skinny gym clothes. He said, “I thought you’ll be size twelve by this time.” I said, “Size twelve? How do I get there?” He said, “If the gym isn’t working, there are pills to help you get there. I don’t want to come and see you like this. I don’t want you to blame me when I go out and leave you behind.”

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Size twelve? I wasn’t size twelve when he proposed to me. I was around fourteen or so. How does he expect me to move from eighteen to twelve in just a month? Is there magic for that? Certain prestidigitation that turns a woman from Eighteen to twelve?

I’ve been thinking about it. It’s driving me crazy. It has become like a mountain in front of me. I know that isn’t possible so I told him, “I’m working hard because of you. I know what you want and I’m trying to get it for you. I spend my free period at the gym. I’ve stopped eating my favorite meals just because I want to do something to make you happy. Twelve is not possible. Twelve only changes the housing of the human. It doesn’t change the girl you fell in love with. You’ll take me as I am or you’ll find another woman for Christmas when you come. What you’re asking for is death covered in candies. I can’t take it.”

He said, “I’ve finished shopping for you. All your clothes are in size twelve. You’ll decide what to do with them when you get them.” 

Currently, I’m not bothered. And to prove to him that I’m not bothered, I’ve stopped going to the gym. I eat whatever my mom cooks. I feel good in my skin. I’m currently around size sixteen. That isn’t a death sentence. When I run my hands around my body, they fall into curves and flat surfaces. I’m not a damaged product. If he can’t love what he sees, he’s free to go to the next shop. Dummies don’t change in size. He can get a size twelve for himself. 

–Frema

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Source: CelebritiesbuzzGh | My Boyfriend Wants Me To Hit Size Twelve Before Christmas