She Lost Everything Before Finding The Right Man

The first person to point out my size was my mother. My name is Akua, and I had a cousin living with us who shared the same name. To tell us apart, my mom called me Akua Obolobo. That was how it began.

Soon, the entire neighborhood started referring to me as Akua Obolobo, but eventually, the Akua faded away, and Obolobo was shortened to Obolo. I grew up aware of my weight and accepted it, living life as many larger individuals do.

In senior high school, I experienced my first kiss. It was so exhilarating that I wanted to repeat it endlessly. Perhaps it wasn’t the kiss itself that thrilled me, but the feeling of being loved enough for someone to kiss me made my heart race. That kiss was both my first and my last from that boy. I hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he began to pull away. He wouldn’t talk to me or even meet me when I sought him out.

When I asked him why, he replied, “My friends laugh at me these days because of you. They say if you sit on me, my intestines will spill out. They tease me daily, and I think staying away from you will spare us from the mockery.” I told him, “You didn’t love me. If you did, you would have defended me.” He was just a boy, and I was placing too much responsibility on him. I longed for another kiss, but it never happened, and that marked the end of our relationship.

I didn’t have another boyfriend until after I graduated from senior high school. My friend Matilda received proposals daily from the most attractive guys on campus. She accepted some and turned down many. One day, she asked, “If a guy proposes to me and I’m not interested, can I pass him to you?” I replied, “Yes, I’m always available, but make sure he likes obolo girls.”

That’s how low my self-esteem was.

Then I grew older.

At twenty-five, I was still single. By twenty-eight, I met a guy who claimed to love me wholeheartedly. I believed him because his actions reflected his feelings. He held my hand proudly wherever we went, as if he wanted to show me off to the world. I experienced my second kiss, my third, and many more with him. In my mind, he was my future husband, my soulmate, and the reason I had remained single until then. I envisioned our wedding and even planned our honeymoon in my heart. I imagined our first child would be a girl, followed by a boy, and then another girl.

A girl in love can map out her entire life in her mind and live it accordingly.

However, at some point, he began to voice concerns about my weight. “Akua, it seems you’ve gained some weight.” “Really? I haven’t checked my weight lately.” That evening, I weighed myself, and everything was the same; I hadn’t even gained a pound. But he continued to complain. I asked, “You don’t like how I look anymore?” He replied, “It’s not that. You keep gaining weight as if you don’t have enough already. All I’m saying is, do something about it before it gets out of hand.”

From that moment on, it became a rule: “You must lose weight, or I’ll nag you endlessly.”

I loved him deeply. When everyone else rejected me, he accepted me for who I was, so I decided to lose some weight for him. I started jogging, jumping rope, and eating less and healthier. Two months later, I had gained more weight. He advised, “Exercise properly for thirty minutes every morning, fast for a few hours, and drink some slimming tea.” I followed his advice, yet saw no improvement.

He recognized my efforts and knew I was trying, but my body wasn’t cooperating. He never ceased to pressure me. We argued frequently, and love began to fade without much effort to salvage it. Eventually, we parted ways and moved on with our lives. I tried, God knows I tried, but he kept asking for more than I could give. I’m not defined by my body, and I refused to sacrifice my well-being for love, so I let go.

The breakup hit me hard. It wasn’t just my heart that broke; I felt shattered. I was like a bird with broken wings, unable to fly and constantly fearful of being pursued. A simple sound from the trees made me tremble. I cried for days, convinced that my life had come to an end.

I shut myself off from love and focused on living my life. I made new friends and enjoyed their company. I joined girl groups and kept myself busy. Each day brought something new, so much so that I forgot about love. Life was good, especially without the pain of a broken heart.

Then I met Ken.

He was a charming gentleman, refined and polished. He seemed like someone who had multiple girlfriends and was still looking for more. When he began to show interest in me, I thought, “You devil, leave me alone.” He said all the things I loved to hear. I wondered, “Doesn’t he see that I’m fat?” When he finally proposed, I wanted to say yes but hesitated. I asked, “Are you sure it’s me you want?” He replied, “I’m old enough to know what I want.”

I simply nodded.

Given my past experiences, I didn’t believe I deserved someone like him. I struggled to trust him completely. I wanted to believe him when he said he truly loved me, but it felt too good to be true. He wanted to take me out on several occasions, but I declined. I feared that people would see us together and tease him, just as I had experienced before. I didn’t want to risk that, especially early in our relationship.

He went out alone while I stayed home, focusing on my own life. Eventually, he saw through my insecurities. He encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone and be happy, but I was set in my ways. I was an old dog resistant to new tricks. I insisted on staying in to protect him from judgment. I thought I was doing it for him.

One afternoon, he came to get me. He reassured me endlessly before I agreed to go out with him. I had no idea where we were headed, but I trusted he would take me somewhere nice. Instead, we ended up at a gathering of his old schoolmates. The cheers and jeers as we entered were overwhelming. I froze. All my fears resurfaced. I couldn’t walk or stand tall, but he held my hand, guiding me through the crowd and introducing me to his friends.

Once seated, I felt everyone’s eyes on us. I grew increasingly uneasy, convinced our relationship would end before we even got home. He was enjoying himself with his old friends while I sat there, attracting stares from those who couldn’t believe someone as large as I was could be with him. When we returned home that day, he said, “You care too much about what others think. What about me? Don’t you care how I feel about you? You’re not disabled; you just have more skin than others.”

That was the moment I began to warm up to our relationship. His words were so sweet, and I felt guilty for holding back due to my fears. We’ve been together for two years now. July 25th, 2020, will be my birthday and also my wedding day. It will be a day of unbounded joy, not because my journey with Ken has been easy, but because all the struggles, shame, and pain have led me to a place where everything makes sense.

Whether big or small, there’s a hand that fits mine, and an embrace made just for me. This is it.

—Akua  
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