For my 35th birthday, my husband presented me with a beautifully wrapped box and a smug grin. Inside was a gift that shattered my confidence and simultaneously lit a fire in me. A year later, I had a surprise of my own for him – one that made him beg for forgiveness.
The house was filled with laughter and conversation. Balloons in delicate pastel colours floated from the ceiling, and a ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner stretched across the living room. On each table were plates of snacks and slices of cake.
My kids ran around laughing with faces sticky with icing. Friends and family filled the room, the clinking of glasses accompanying their congratulations.
Quiet, quiet! – exclaimed my husband Greg, picking up the phone. He smiled broadly as he switched on the recording. – The birthday girl is about to open a present!
I smiled nervously, my heart pounding frantically. Greg wasn’t usually one for surprises, so the gift had to be special.
He handed me a box wrapped in shiny paper.
Come on, honey,’ he nodded encouragingly.
What is it? – I asked cautiously, holding the box. It wasn’t very heavy, but the weight was palpable.
Open it and see! – Greg said with a smirk, not stopping the video.
I ripped open the wrapping and saw a stylish black box. I opened it and my smile froze. Inside was a gleaming digital scale.
Wow,’ I said, trying to smile. – A floor scale?
Yes!’ Greg exclaimed, laughing out loud. – No more excuses about being ‘wide-boned,’ honey. Just numbers!
The room froze, only a few of the guests grinned nervously. My cheeks flamed. I looked around-no one was looking at me. I’d gained a lot of weight during my third pregnancy and hadn’t had time to lose it – the baby and household chores hadn’t left me much time.
Thank you,’ I mumbled, swallowing the lump in my throat. – That’s… very, um, thoughtful.
Greg clapped his hands together.
I knew you’d like it! – he declared, completely oblivious to my embarrassment.
That night, when the guests left, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks as my husband snored next to me, unaware.
I remembered his laughter, the looks from the guests. The shame was unbearable.
But then came another feeling: anger.
It won’t end this way,’ I whispered, wiping away my tears. – I’ll show him. He’ll regret it.
In the morning, I tied up my old trainers.
Just a walk,’ I said to myself. – One mile. You can do it.
It was fresh outside. My muscles ached from the exertion, my legs protesting with every step. As I passed a shop window, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. My heart clenched.
It’s no use,’ I thought, slowing down. – One walk won’t make a difference.
But then I remembered Greg’s laughter and his cruel words. I clenched my fists.
One walk is a start,’ I told myself firmly. – Just keep going.
I came home sweaty and tired, but with a tiny spark of pride inside. The next day, I did it again. And then again and again.
I replaced my sweet morning coffee with green tea. At first it seemed like a warm herb, but I didn’t give up. I ate apples instead of crisps. It was hard. Baby snacks beckoned me off the shelves, the temptation to give up whispered in my ear.
One day I stared at a chocolate bar Greg had left on the table.
No,’ I whispered. – It wasn’t about me anymore.
I took a handful of almonds instead.
Two months later, I was walking two miles a day. My pace quickened, my breathing got smoother. The scale read minus seven pounds. Not much, but it was a start.
I tried yoga. The YouTube video promised ‘gentle stretching for beginners,’ but ten minutes later I was drenching myself in sweat and cursing the instructor.
Mum, you look funny! – laughed my youngest son.
Thank you, dear,’ I smiled. – I feel like that too.
Weeks went by and I got stronger. My clothes fit better, and a friend who hadn’t seen me in a long time exclaimed:
Wow, you look amazing! What’s your secret?
Just taking care of myself,’ I replied proudly.
When my youngest went to kindergarten, I joined a gym and hired a trainer.
Six months later, my transformation was evident. I had lost 30 pounds, but most importantly, I felt different.
Then I decided to go further and enrolled on a fitness trainer course. It wasn’t easy – studying, training, kids – but I was determined.
On the day I received my certificate, I hugged my kids:
Mummy is now a trainer!
You are the strongest mummy ever!
No,’ I smiled. – Just the happiest.
Meanwhile, Greg began to notice a change.
You look great, honey,’ he said one evening, grinning.
Then he added:
See, my nudge helped you!
I froze.
His ‘nudge’… The scale, his humiliating gift, wasn’t a nudge – it was a blow.
Then I decided that for his birthday, he would get a present too.
The party was modest. I handed him a box in the same shiny wrapper.
Greg impatiently unwrapped the gift and… froze, looking at the stack of divorce papers.
W-what are these? – he muttered, turning pale.
Numbers, dear,’ I said calmly. – No more ‘married excuses.’ I’ve filed for divorce.
The guests froze. Greg’s face went from pale to flushed.
Is this a joke?! – he exclaimed.
No,’ I said firmly. – You made me feel insignificant. But I believed in myself. And now I’m leaving.
I grabbed my gym bag, walked out of the house, and breathed in the crisp evening air.
That week I moved into a new flat, full of light and warmth.
For the first time in years, I felt free.
And it was the best gift of all.
