The second year into my second marriage, the weight gain that typically settles from matrimonial meals had, yes, begun to set in. Contrary to the physical traits of my mother and older sister, my extra padding didn't just get comfy around the waistline, but rather made an odd presence in the form of puffiness in my face and neck. A writer pal of mine squinted and candidly observed, "Yeah, sorta like Botox gone wrong." My husband, however, insisted that I was as beautiful as the afternoon he married me.
That afternoon had been on a warm day in late July of 2011. We exchanged vows on a downtown Manhattan rooftop. I wore my hair the way he loved: loose with light waves. And my wedding gown? Snatched off a padded hanger during a clamorous hour at the J. Crew bridal boutique on the Upper East Side.