Throughout my teens, my mom hammered on me daily about my weight. "No wonder you don't have a date tonight...you're fat" is perhaps my favorite memory of the personal hell she put me through. When I started dating my first boyfriend, I stopped eating. At times, I got so sick from hunger, I had to take a Dramamine to keep from throwing up. At one point, I weighed 113 lbs and mom declared that I was "perfect." I'm 5 foot 7.5 inches tall, and I was emaciated. But I hovered around this weight for years....until my first true heartbreak around 30 years old. When I was married (that's a honeymoon photo above) my weight was OK...but I wasn't feeling good about it. I made some comments about myself, my husband replied back in a way that I didn't like, and my weight became an issue in our marriage. It happened thisfast. Looking back, I must have started the fight on purpose. My husband disengaged from the weight conflict many years ago and actively showed me his unconditional love. He's been amazing. In many ways, I feel that I "owe" him so much more than I have given him. He is definately the Better Half of this couple.