I’m Larkin, 28F, and I’ve always been the “big girl.” Not cute-thick—just big. So I learned to be easy to love: funny, helpful, reliable. If I couldn’t be the prettiest, I’d be the most useful.
That’s who my ex, Sayer, met. We dated almost three years. I thought he loved me.
Six months ago, I found out he’d been cheating with my best friend, Maren. I caught them in my bed. When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it. He just said, “Maren is thin. She’s beautiful. It matters.” Then:
“You’re great, Larkin, but you didn’t take care of yourself. I deserve someone who matches me.”
They got engaged fast.
I hit rock bottom and changed my life—not for revenge, but to survive. Walking turned into running, running into lifting. I cried, wanted to quit, but kept going. Over six months, I lost weight and slowly rebuilt my confidence.
Today was their wedding. I wasn’t invited. I planned to stay home.
Then Sayer’s mother called. “You need to come. Now. You won’t believe what happened.”
The wedding had imploded. Maren had been seeing another man and walked out in her dress. Guests everywhere. Chaos.
That’s when his mom looked at me and said, “You always loved him. You’d be perfect. You could marry him today and save everything.”
I realized then what I’d always been to them.
A backup plan.
I said no and walked out.
That night, Sayer showed up at my door. Told me I “looked incredible” now. Said we could fix this, save his reputation, rewrite the story.
Six months ago, I might’ve said yes.
Instead, I told him the truth: I was never the problem. Losing weight didn’t make me worthy—it just made it easier to see who wasn’t.
I closed the door.
The biggest thing I lost wasn’t weight.
It was the belief that I had to earn basic respect.