World Fall Down Go Boom

Hello Internet.

So you've noticed I've been MIA, but I suppose with all the life living and wedding planning you gave me a pass on being incommunicado, and I thank you for your patience. How've y'all been?

Me?

Honestly, I've had better weeks.

Of all the lessons that blogging about my weight loss journey has taught me, the single best one is the value of honesty, of the phenomenal power that the truth can wield in our lives. A secondary, though no less important, lesson I learned is that sometimes the truth hurts.

Internet, I got dumped.

Ouch.

I'd like to sugarcoat it, to make a joke or two and a glib reference about how I lost 260 pounds in a single day, but the truth is that I just don't have it in me to laugh this off just yet.

Two weeks ago I was getting married. The dress was bought, the deposits were paid, the reservations were made, the invitations were picked out and the engagement pictures were taken.  I woke up one Thursday morning and engaged woman, dressed for work, kissed my fiance goodbye and told him to have a good day, and by noon everything had changed.

He called me at work. Said he'd done something that would come as a big shock, and that he never meant to hurt me, that I was a wonderful person with a great kid and an awesome family...but that he had moved out. Told me it wasn't me, that it was nothing I'd done and there was nothing that I could do. It was over. And it was.

He was gone. So were his clothes. And the couch. And the TV and entertainment system. And our bed. Every gift I'd given him, every item he'd moved into our home...gone. He turned off his phone, and there hasn't been a single word from him. No goodbye, no apology, no "Dear Sara" note on the mantle, nothing.

I never saw it coming. At all. Sure, he'd been a little tired lately, but he'd injured himself at work a few weeks before and had a lot of lingering pain. But we'd just had engagement pictures taken on Sunday. We tasted wedding cakes with my family on Friday.The day before his disappearing act he'd taken my car to get the oil changed, called me at in the afternoon to tell me that he was heading off to work, have a good night, love you, bye.

And now I stood in the rubble of my ransacked home, and as I stared at the fallout all around me and my mind tried to make sense of what had happened, I grasped for reasons that he had done this to me.And all I could think was:

I must be my weight.

I know that this is silly. Yes, I've gained some weight since we met over a year ago. But he had put on quite a few pounds too, and he wasn't a delicate willow to begin with either. He never made my weight an issue, he made me feel beautiful and special and I started to believe that I was. I believed that it was finally my turn to be happy, to win one for all the fat girls out there who secretly believed that falling in love and being overweight didn't have to be mutually exclusive.

At the end of the day, I have chosen to take him at his word and believe that it was nothing I did or didnt do, and that his cowardly little escape act was the result of a deep seated character flaw within him.  We had always marveled at how, with such a crazy upbringing and tumultuous childhood, he had turned out so normal.  Turns out he wasn't.  Normal, good people don't do what he did. He's defective, an anomaly.

He left me holding every bag, with every burden that his leaving brings with it. He left me to pick up the pieces of my son's broken heart.  He left me to tell the world that the wedding is off.  To call all the vendors, to cancel all the plans, to stare every day at the non-returnable wedding items that hang in my half-bare closet.  He left me without a bed to sleep in. He left me.

And now I've got to find me again.

Wish me luck