Her Husband

Her Husband.

He tells her at every opportunity he gets, how ugly and uncomely she looks and has become.

How her body is fat and unattractive and would have no man in his right senses looking twice at it.

It got to her.

I mean, bitter words in whatever form, either in reproval or outright hate get to all of us, no matter how strong an individual we are, and in most cases these words stick.

She would leave always for the bathroom to cry, away from his presence.

Not because he was wrong, maybe he is indeed right and she's fat, but it so hurts how a tongue that once confessed great love and admiration for you, has now become the thorn that pricks you.

So every morning, after he leaves for work, and she'd taken her two kids to school, she'd strip nude, stand hours before the mirror and cry again.

Then she'd turn her ass to the mirror to check its reflection, before delivering gentle slaps on her butt cheeks. She would fondle her boobs to be sure they are firm still and sexy, she would run her palm over and around her belly in a circle, as though in a bid to gradually smoothen off those precious streaks of childbirth.

She would do all of these absentmindedly, for her husband's words have so destroyed her esteem that she barely had a handful of it left.

Then she'd wipe out her iPhone and shutter her naked images in different poses till she gets weary.

One day, somehow, she reconnected with an old school friend.

They exchanged social media handles and became very close; such that it was him who she confided in whenever the unsettling feeling of low self-worth and esteem hit her.

And he would tell her she's beautiful and precious, and adorable and gorgeous.

He'd tell her she is all shades of admirable and elegant.

And she'd smile and blush and feel good, for no one had ever told her she looked good in a long time.

But somehow, after her chats and conversations with him, those feelings of abandonment and insecurity would again enshroud her.

And she'd begin to think, that all he said, was just to make her feel good and happy about herself.

So one day, without him asking, she sent him some of her nudes. Those ones she had always taken in front of the mirror in her moments of despair.

And she waited with bated breath for his truth. One which was very capable of destroying every ounce of her self-recovery like the shards of a broken bottle.

He saw the photos and replied.

"These are beautiful I must confess, I mean I don't know what to say, but if I were an artist, I'd pay you to have this painted and adorning my room. You're gorgeous and so much more. This is the most beautiful thing I have seen this week. I wouldn't know the reason why you sent them to me, I am in no place at all to judge, but I must say you have a body that is mind-blowing."

With quivering hands she replied.

"You're joking, right? Are you serious? You mean I am not ugly?"

And he reiterated.

"No, you're not, I mean I don't know of a right-thinking man that would see these photos and not feel moved or sexually shaken. You have an amazing body."

She read through his words and cried. It wasn't a bitter one, but the last of her tears — the final cleansing of her soul.

And those words led to her discovery, her self-realization.

She never again ran to the bathroom to cry when her husband said those things about her body to her.

She'd just chuckle, walk to the mirror and pull out her make-up box — a touch to the eye, a smear on the lips, a wipe on the cheeks and a pout.

Then she'd wear something sexy, walk into the kitchen and mime a song while cooking.

Confident.

High in self-esteem.

Brave.

Undisturbed.

Sexy.

The change disturbed her husband, but it was late already.

You cannot possibly clip the wings of an eagle on flight.

And it is very difficult a fight to win when a husband turns himself into a vulture and his wife refuses to die.

© Noel Ijezie