Friends told me that after James and I were married, we'd discover things about each other that we'd never noticed before—cleaning patterns, bathroom habits, little quirks. They were right.
But nothing prepared me for the greatest shock of all. My husband is an eater.
When I say eater, I don't mean three square meals a day, or even several small healthy meals throughout the day. I mean he eats all day long.
The realization first hit me on our honeymoon. We ate breakfast, we ate lunch, we ate dinner. And James had snacks in between. One day, I subconsciously kept up with him. We gobbled bagels, chips, candy, ice cream.
By supper—a fancy candlelight dinner—my stomach had decided enough was enough. The thought of going to a restaurant and being surrounded by all that food was nauseating! I asked James if we could postpone our dinner plans until another evening. That night, instead of gazing dreamily into my husband's eyes while watching the sun set over Lake Michigan, I suffered in bed with the worst stomach ache I've ever had.
James's eating habits didn't change. And rather than learning from that honeymoon belly ache, I found myself trying to keep up with him—whether by mimicking his snacking habits or by doling out equal portions at our meals. I knew that I couldn't keep up with him. I understood that our bodies have differing metabolisms. But still, I ate what he ate, when he ate. It was a constant struggle.
I'd been battling weight control for a while. Before the wedding I lost 30 pounds. I felt great—I looked great! But afterward, I regained much of the weight from eating what and when James did.1