My husband told me to lose five pounds. May I kill him?

My husband recently told me that if I lost five pounds, I would be “really hot.” I’m well within a healthy weight range for my height and eat well and exercise regularly. I’m a size six. Should I murder him or try and lose a little weight to make him happy?

Oh, no need to murder him, because I’ve already used my patented To Chea Douchebag-Killing Thoughts of Death on him and he’s done for. And don’t you dare lose an ounce or I’ll use them on you, too.

My husband and I have known each other for about a hundred years, and have been together as a couple for about 50 of those hundred. During this time my weight has ranged from approximately three pounds to about 3,000 pounds. I’ve shopped for clothes for myself at every store from the baby Gap to Muumuus R Us. I’m sure that at some points in my life I’ve looked better than others (that period when I needed a Rascal to get out to the mailbox was pretty depressing), but that sweet man has NEVER said a single word about it. Possibly because he’s afraid that if he does, I’ll rip his head off, deep-fry it, dip it in Ranch dressing and have it for lunch, but probably because he’s kind and loving and loves me for who I am, not how I look.

You deserve this, too. All women do. I mean, if you need a crane to get you out of bed in the morning, then sure, listen to your husband when he says something about your weight. But any man who tells you that your size-six body would need to be smaller in order to be “hot” is a controlling dickface who wants to hammer down on your self-esteem to keep you in a bad place. Laugh it off all you want, or tell yourself he’s just being honest, but the truth remains: he deliberately said something hurtful to make you doubt yourself, feel self-conscious, and feel unattractive, unwanted, and unloved.

I don’t know if he says things like this often, or if this was a one-time blunder of epic proportions, but you need to make sure that it doesn’t happen again. Whether it’s a firm discussion (please see aforementioned head-frying comment) or something more intense like couples counseling is up to you. But I wouldn’t let this slide. I would probably, actually, sit down in front of him tonight with a Costco-sized birthday cake and slowly but surely eat every bite with a meat fork while smiling at him. That’s an f-you that tastes good.

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