After four years together: He belittled and insulted me because of my weight!
My name is Emily Carter, and I live in the town of Canterbury, where the river flows gently amid old buildings in Kent. I never imagined my life would turn into such a nightmare. We’ve broken up. For four years and three months, I shared everything with him—laughter, tears, hopes. Now, I’m alone, and my heart is shattered into pieces. You may say, “So what? People break up every day.” Yes, that’s true, but I won’t forgive him for this betrayal—it feels like a knife in the back that he thrust in with a smile.
Everything between us was almost perfect. Sure, we had arguments, but they never blew up into big fights. We lived harmoniously until fate hit me like a sucker punch. Due to a personal crisis, I started gaining weight. I was never a cover model, but I had a decent, neat figure. Then, the pounds piled on, and my boyfriend—now ex, James—became my tormentor. He began to mock me, belittle me, as if I had become worthless to him.
He shamelessly made fun of me in front of everyone. I remember at a party with friends, after a few drinks, he loudly joked about my “flab,” poking my sides while everyone laughed. His drunk excuses didn’t wash away the pain—I felt crushed, pathetic. Over the last few months, my tears outnumbered my moments of sunshine. He was aware of everything—I mean, he knew the hell I was going through, every detail of my struggle. Yet he continued to trample on me like I was trash under his feet. Each of his jabs made my problems heavier, more unbearable.
One morning, I snapped. My chest was tight with resentment, tears choked me, and I burst out: “Leave!” He didn’t even blink—it was as if he’d been waiting for that moment. He silently gathered his things, slammed the door, and vanished. After four years, he left me alone—to writhe in agony, to drown in my troubles. I’m left with a void in my soul and unanswered questions. Did he have someone else? I hadn’t noticed any signs of cheating—no calls, no secret meetings. But maybe he’d found someone new, slim, beautiful, not like me—overweight and broken?
I’m not seeking your advice, nor do I expect pity. I’m simply pouring out this pain that burns inside me like hot iron. James stomped on not just my love, but also my self-esteem. Each of his cutting comments about my weight etched into my memory like scars. I won’t forget how he laughed at me in front of others, looked at me with contempt, as if I’d ceased to be a woman in his eyes. He knew I was battling inner demons, but instead of supporting me, he pushed me further into the dirt. And he left, without a backward glance, leaving me in this hell.
Sometimes, I imagine him with another woman—one who is light as air, with a slim waist and a bright laugh. Maybe he had always dreamed of someone like that while I was gaining weight from stress and tears? This thought gnaws at me during the night, but I don’t want the truth—it would crush me more. For four years, I gave him everything—love, warmth, my soul—and he wiped his feet on me and moved on to a new life. I’m left alone, with extra weight, a burden of grievances, feeling unworthy of even a drop of happiness.
But I will stand strong. I know I can get through this. Through tears, through pain, I’ll find the strength to rise. Each day, I look in the mirror and loathe the reflection—not because of the weight, but because I let him break me like this. He left, and I’m left to fight—with myself, with my past, with his voice in my head that still whispers, “You’re worthless.” I pray for only one thing: let this hell end soon. Let the wounds heal, let me feel alive again. I won’t forgive him, but I’ll survive his betrayal—for my own sake.
