I put three cutlets on my plate — and my husband suddenly lost his temper, telling me it was time to lose weight.
We’ve been married six years and have three kids. Our oldest, Vanya, already goes to kindergarten; my daughter Dasha stays home with me, and little Seryozha is still in my arms. My name is Olga, I’m thirty-five. On paper, everything looks perfect — family, kids, husband. But the longer it goes on, the more I feel like I’m fading away in this endless routine.
I met Igor when I was almost thirty. All my friends were busy with their babies, talking about kindergartens and loans, while I kept waiting for the right person. My days were just work, home, and the rare coffee with girlfriends.
Then he showed up — tall, fit, a former hockey player who now manages a factory floor. I never imagined someone like him would notice me. But he courted me with flowers, dates, and late-night talks. When he invited me to meet his mother, I realized this was serious.
His mom, Anna Ivanovna, took to me right away, calling me “sweetheart” and nudging Igor that it was time to get married. We tied the knot, and a year later Vanya was born. Then came Dasha, then Seryozha. Since then, I’ve been on maternity leave, my life revolving around diapers, baby food, and endless cleaning.
I used to be slim — about 50 kilos. Now I’m almost 80. I used to dance regularly, but now even taking a shower without the kids crying feels like a luxury. I tried working out, but as soon as I squat down, one cries for food, another falls, the third bursts into tears.
At first, Igor joked, calling me his “chubby darling” and “fluffy.” Then the laughter stopped. His looks grew colder, and soon his words followed.
“Have you seen yourself? You look like a piece of furniture.”
Yesterday at dinner, I took three cutlets — I hadn’t eaten all morning. He grabbed two back onto the plate and snapped,
“Stop stuffing yourself. Have you looked in a mirror?”
I was speechless. Then he added,
“If I find someone else, it’ll be your fault. I want a woman, not a shapeless blob.”
It felt like a knife in my heart. I said nothing, but inside, I clenched up. “He’s right,” I thought. “I’ve let myself go, gained weight, stopped caring. Who am I now?”
But I want to dress nicely, visit the salon, sit in a café once in a while. Yet all the money goes to the kids, their classes, the mortgage, clothes for Igor — he’s a manager, he has to look the part. We also help Anna Ivanovna since her pension is tiny. Nothing is left for me.
Sometimes I cry in the fitting room. Clothes don’t fit, everything pinches. In the mirror, I see a tired, swollen woman.
He earns well but money is never enough. I’m without a job or any financial independence. It’s a vicious cycle: I can’t find work because of the kids, and without work, I can’t change anything.
I’m scared he’ll leave. I notice how he looks at slim, well-groomed women. I try, but I have no strength left. Between cooking, laundry, and cleaning, I’m just a shadow.
Anna Ivanovna scolds him,
“You have a golden wife, mother of three. Are you really going to break your family over a belly?”
I cling to those words. Maybe he’ll come to his senses. Maybe he’ll remember why he loved me. But for now, all I have is fear.
Sometimes in my dreams, I’m still the old me — light, beautiful. Then Seryozha’s cries wake me up, and it’s back to pots, diapers, exhaustion.
I am no longer a woman. I’m a function.
And every day, the same question haunts me: “What if he really leaves?”
The takeaway: When a woman loses herself in her family, she must not forget who she is. Otherwise, one day she might wake up and not recognize the person in the mirror.