I was complaining again. Whining about my inability to lose weight. My time-tested methods no longer worked on my age 50-plus body.

DH rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re a cow,” he said. Translation: “I don’t want to discuss the subject again because you are not even the medical definition of ‘overweight’.” (To be honest, I’m close). After all, he loves my body. After three children. As it is. Today.

He loves the real breasts a.k.a. “The Girls”, no matter what shape they are. He loves the curves of time, the ins and outs. He loves the hips that say, “Hey, want to take a ride?” I know this because he tells me. He calls me Beautiful nearly every day, as if it were my name.

Now, this doesn’t stop my complaining but it does temper my insecurity. DH also knows the best was to shut me up temporarily is to have sex with me. At that moment, my body is perfect and my soul is content.

DH says he has a lot of wife to handle. These body issues are only one part of what he calls “a lot.” I think most couples go through this never-ending dance: what he sees vs. what she sees. And if I were a woman’s partner, I would get tired of this complaining, too! I just want to know that I am okay, that my partner loves me.

For my part, I keep trying to stay active and eat well, remembering that I am strong and healthy–and that’s pretty damn sexy.

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