Men, sit down and get comfortable. I’m going to tell you The Horribly Fat Story. This story is a cautionary tale that you must remember if you want a long and happy marriage. Oddly enough, it will also serve as a shield should you inevitably blunder as I did. And blunder you will.
Essentially, this is the story of how I used the wrong adjective and it almost broke my marriage.
So listen closely. I’m only going to tell this story once (but if you forget it, don’t worry, as The Missus tells it to everyone, even strangers on the street).
The Horribly Fat Story
It is before the turn of the century. The last one (I’m not THAT old). The Missus and I are driving two hundred miles across the state to a wedding. It is getting late. I am tired and hungry, having skipped dinner to pack for the trip.
Up ahead is an exit to a small town. We can see the lights from several fast-food joints.
Did I mention I am tired? It’s important to remember how tired I am. It comes into play at this particular point.
“Hey! You want to stop for some food?” I ask The Missus. “I could really go for a Big Mac.”
“Sure,” she answers. “I’ll have some fries.”
It is the next moment –and what I said in that moment– that is a major plot point in the Story of Me. Forget Pearl Harbor. THIS is the moment that lives in infamy.
Are you ready? Here is the sentence that will haunt me the rest of my life:
“I’m so glad I married a woman who likes fast food and is not horribly fat.”
Silence.
Yes. I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking the same thing now, so many years later. The thing is, at the time I –obviously– wasn’t thinking at all. Honestly, it was meant to be a compliment, but that damn adjective soured the deal.
A moment passes. The silence lingers. It hangs in the air between us like a silent, dusty piñata filled with tiny pieces of danger and years of regret.
The silence is broken as The Missus swings at the piñata with words spoken with icy calm and deadly clarity:
“So, I’m not horribly fat?”
The silent piñata bursts. Terror, shock, and panic cascade all over me like hard candy from Hell. All I can do is utter half-pronounced and slurred nonsense words in an attempt to back out of the situation. But you can’t stuff “horribly fat” back into a broken piñata, even an imaginary one.
She sees the terror in my eyes as I babble incoherently.
She starts laughing. The rest of the three hour drive is filled with her laughter. Every minute or so she gathers her composure for a second or two to wipe the tears from her eyes. Then with a snort, she says some version of, “Oh everyone is gonna LOVE this story!” And she starts laughing all over again.
I Am Legend.
And everyone does in fact love the story.
Since that day, when my so-called friends gather together, someone asks for a retelling of the Horribly Fat Story. And The Missus eagerly complies.
Among our friends, The Horribly Fat Story spread like wildfire, or an STD.
In it, I’m the quintessential Bad Example for every husband.
Oddly enough, I’m also a Get Out Of Jail card.
Because as husbands, it’s inevitable that you will say the wrong thing to your spouse. But there’s one phrase that can save you.
It’s worked for every husband who used it.
Honestly, instead of condemning me for my foolish mistake, I should be heralded as the guy who Took One For The Team. I’m the guy who sacrificed his dignity and in the process saved hundreds of husbands from a horrible fate with one simple phrase:
“It’s not a Horribly Fat thing!”
Keep it close. Write it down. Save it.
You’re welcome.
The Legacy
It happened long ago, but like 9/11, the repercussions echo to this day. The personal trauma of the Horribly Fat Story have stayed with me through the years.
But I’ve grown beyond it now. I’ve learned my lesson and I am a better man because of it.
So on this day, the occasion of our thirty-fourth anniversary, I offer the Horribly Fat Story to the world in hopes that it will do some good. And to The Missus, I offer the following anniversary gift, a woman who has suffered long years of my verbal blunders and, for reasons that elude me, still chooses to stick around.
I love you, Hun.
Enjoy your $50 McDonalds Gift Card.
About the Author
Topdog is Steve Merryman, a retired graphic designer, illustrator, and curmudgeon-in-training. Steve can often be found working on a portrait commission or some other artwork. Steve fills his days by painting, writing, shootin' guns, cuttin' trees, hiking with his dogs, and shaking his head at world events, all while searching for the perfect cheeseburger. He is occasionally without pants.