Um, Yeah: Your Husband Knows Whether You’re Fat

What I don’t get is women who don’t want their hubs to know their weight. I mean, unless you have some kind of freak show marriage that they made into one of those creepy cable documentaries, chances are, the guy has seen you naked. So, I’m pretty sure he has a general idea of what you weigh. And even if he can’t guess the number, does the number really matter if the guy has seen you naked? After someone has seen you naked, what’s really left to know? And anyway, the vows said for better or worse, for richer or poorer, for fatter or skinnier, in Botox or in health.

What? Where'd you get married?

Well anyway, even if someone hasn’t seen you naked, why do we try to hide the number on the scale? I’m pretty sure if someone looked at me, they could tell I don’t weigh 120 pounds, and if I tried to say I did, they’d be all, "120 LBS my butt, LLPOF!" (that’s liar liar pants on fire for those of you over 12). Who's kidding who, sister?

I had to laugh when I would get weighed at the OB when I was pregnant. The scale was in the hall and my husband would totally hang back and pretend to be blending into the wall while the nurse would weigh me and surreptitiously write the number on the chart. Why all the secrecy? I honestly would sooner tell my husband my weight than my mom or some of my skinny friends. (Yeah, I only keep them around because they let me eat their share of the chips and salsa when we go out for margaritas.)

Seriously though, when you’ve had three babies with someone, isn’t everything kind of an open book?

When I went to give birth all three times I had to tell the labor nurse my weight. And even though they were all blonde, skinny, and beautiful (What are the odds? Seriously. Can’t chubs ever catch a break?) I wasn’t about to lie either.

Let me share with you a piece of advice that has served me well in life: never lie about your weight when asked by a hospital who may be administering an epidural or anesthesia or when you are about to board a small aircraft. Lie to the DMV, your sister, the mailman… but for the love of God, not to the people who hold your life in their hands! You might think this is obvious, but when it comes to women and their weight, you never know who they might try to fool.

“The bad news is, the plane crashed because I told the pilot I weighed 110,” she whispered to St. Peter. “But the great news is,” she said, her voice rising, “the pilot believed me! Hot damn!”

So in the end, I told the labor nurse my true weight. I pretty much gushed that I was happy I didn’t hit two bills. I know, talk about setting the bar low (or should I say, high?).

“Hey, if this being a mom thing doesn’t work out,” I added, laughing way too loudly, “I’m going to try to walk on with the Patriots this fall!”

“Stop it!” the skinny nurse would laugh, but you know inside she was thinking, “Hmm, maybe she’s onto something! She’s looks too slow for running back, but the Pats sure could use some more D!”