Page 7 of The Husband Diet
So there I was, at stage one of Operation Seduction. And if it meant swallowing the bitter pill, so be it. But the horrendous contraption in Dr Jacobs’ hands wasn’t exactly the size of a pill. It was the size of a Happy Meal burger.
‘Here, put this in your mouth,’ he said as I backed off in horror.
‘No, thanks. I’m not hungry.’
Dr Jacobs, who never looked down at me unless I was in his chair, let out a laugh, turning the bite in his gloved hands. ‘Oh, come on, Erica, it’s not so bad. It’s flexible and soft.’
‘So is a rubber ducky. Would you sleep with a rubber ducky in your mouth?’ I asked, looking at the gob in disgust. I might as well have gone to bed with rollers in my hair and slathered brown cream all over my face for the effect that it would have on my sex life.
‘Just for a couple of nights, Erica. Try it. What have you got to lose?’ he insisted.
What did I have to lose? My will to live? It was a revolting piece of work and it gave me gag reflex, only succeeding in making my mouth hurt along with the rest of my teeth. Can you imagine me with one of these things in my mouth and having one of my nocturnal apnea attacks? Images flashed through my mind of me with my eyes bulging out of my head while the air that couldn’t get past my nostrils detoured instead to my mouth, only to find that tunnel blocked by a big fat piece of rubber? I was faced with two choices: either dying of suffocation or never having sex again.
‘Alright already. Give me the damn ducky,’ I sighed.
‘Attagirl,’ he smiled.
Operation Recuperation Husband had begun.
*
Three whole frustrated and horny weeks later, I bravely ditched my favorite cow pajamas and bite for one evening and pulled on a pretty nightgown with a lacy bodice. It was do or die, meaning that if he didn’t do me tonight, I’d kill him. Hehadto make a damn effort – it couldn’t always be me. I needed some cooperation. And so came phase two of my strategy: the sexing-up of the husband.
I crawled over to his side, pressed against his back and whispered, ‘Hello…’ like we used to in the days of old.
Nothing.
I caressed his shoulders, just the way he liked it.
Still nothing from the other side.
‘Ira…?’
He sighed, more like a groan, and turned over to face me. Involuntarily, I stiffened. Not because the torpedo (him) and the rabbit (me) would make yet another baby (I was on the pill), but because we’d lost our intimacy and were now practically strangers.
But there we were, Ira’s hand going south and me suddenly changing my mind, silently willing him to stop.
I heard him pant, huff in frustration and finally roll away.
I lay there, stunned, and then turned on the light.
He groaned in annoyance.
‘What? What’s wrong?’ I didn’t smell, did I? I’d showered and BO was one of the few problems that I didn’t suffer from.
‘It’s so awkward.’
He felt it, too, then, the distance between us. Maybe now he’d agree to see a marriage counselor. Long moments of equally awkward silence followed and I waited with bated breath for him to open up to me.
‘I can’t do it,’ he finally said. ‘I’ve tried, but you’re way too big and I’m too tired to make the effort.’
‘Come again?’ I said, no pun intended, my eyes searching for him in the low light.
I could see the silhouette of his head and I was happy I couldn’t see his face.
He sighed and was silent before he answered. ‘All these years I’ve been on your case about losing weight. And you never listened, never cared. And now you’ve blown to a size twenty… and it’s just too much.’
I sat in stunned silence.
