In beginning of our relationship, my husband actually felt comfortable

telling me about his late wife. There was an aura of mystery about her,

mostly because I had not known her prior to her death. To sate my curiosity,

I just wanted to know answers to a few basic questions, and my husband

was more than willing to oblige me. We were still in that "getting to know

you" stage of newfound love, so he had nothing to lose by sharing some basic

background information with me about her - "non-intimate details" of his

late wife, such as where she attended school, what job she held prior to her

death, cause of her death, etc.

So, for that time being, I was satisfied with just knowing basics.

Soon after marrying him, however, knowing more about her became an

addiction that needed satisfying and a hunger to be sated.

The Obsession to Know Her

I remember exactly when obsession took shape. During first

week of our marriage, I found a folder in his old filing cabinet, and in it

were signed papers for an adoption process. Apparently, unbeknownst to

me, he and his late wife had actually attempted to become adoptive

parents of a child. I looked at date, and was saddened to see that

papers were filed in between time she discovered she had cancer and her

actual death.

Perhaps this meant that she regretted not having any biological children

of her own with him, and now wanted to share parenthood with him before

she passed away, leaving a legacy of herself behind.

Whatever her reasons, I was taken aback. Previously, my husband's late

wife had been, in my naïve mind, just another woman from his past. Prior

to this discovery, I had only received a simple biography or factual resume of

her life - nothing to substantiate anything more meaningful or intimate. But

now, with this new information, she became much more than that.

It was as if I had been in denial - an "ignorance is bliss" sort of

reasoning - since beginning. But now, all at once, I looked upon her with

my heart instead of only my mind. And realization hit me like a ton of

bricks - she was, at one time, a living, breathing, valuable human being. She

was a woman, with emotions, needs, and desires, just like me. And this real

person was one flesh with my husband! In one split second, she went from a

sheet of useless data to a real person, and I wanted to know her...intimately.

It's been said that best way to defeat an enemy is to know him, or in

this case, her. And at that time, I suddenly felt more threatened by her than I

had ever felt by anyone else in my life. She became, in my mind, "the other

woman". She had not only shared a past with my husband, but a bed, a

home, a life, her dreams, her body, and eventually, her illness and death.

That made her special, beloved, and unique…especially to him.

Ugh! I had never really thought about it that way before! She was so

much easier for me to deal with when I thought of her as a one-dimensional

non-entity with non-specific details to describe her non-life! Sure, there were

enough pictures of her to validate that she did at one time walk this earth and

fill space…but now, I had to swallow painful truth that she did more than

that.

So, with my obsession pumping me with energy, I went straight to

source - my husband - armed with enough intimate questions as my arsenal to

slay beast that threatened security and priority I had always thought I

held in my husband's heart. It must have been fire in my eyes as I

pummeled him with my ammo - questions - that made him put up his shield,

but he closed up tight, built a wall, and refused to play my game.

He would not share with me her faults! He would not paint a picture for

me of their day to day life as man and wife! He would not regale me with

amusing anecdotes of her personality! He refused to succumb to my ploy to

bleed him dry of information pertaining to what made her special, what made

her real, what made her…loved by him.

Oh my God, I anguished…it's worse than I thought! This evasion was

proof - he loved her more than he loved me! He thinks she was perfect! And

he's holding her up on some unattainable pedestal, where she will forever sit,

canonized and sainted by him, every day of his life! I will never be Number

One in his heart!

Fighting A Losing Battle With Fear

I thought my marriage was doomed. How could I share his heart with

another woman? And how could he want to marry me in first place if I

meant less than she did to him?

For a year, I managed to depressingly drag my way through my marriage,

day to day, while still holding onto anger, and hating his late wife more

and more. I used up so much energy doing this that I was exhausted all

time. My self-esteem plummeted. I dreaded his touch, for fear he would

think comparisons…"My late wife was much softer"…"My late wife was a

much better lover"…"My late wife…." etc., ad nauseum.

I just couldn't take it any more, and seriously considered divorce as

only alternative, since there was no way I was going to spend rest of my

life with a man who split his love between me and a ghost. But leaving him

would mean she had WON, and I wasn't about to let her take him from me

completely! There had to be a better way! I wanted validation of my fears

and feelings.

Anorexia and bulimia are serious health problems and should not be minimized. But, there are thousands of women who do not fit these categories for whom eating is an emotionally laden issue and a health problem as well. Most women have had some form of dysfunctional relationship with food in their lifetime. Who hasn't gone on a diet, eaten too much for emotional reasons, or worried about how much they weigh? While on surface this may not seem problematic, particularly when these issues are often subject of everyday conversations with other women, it does reflect an insecurity about our bodies and a stressful relationship with food.

Having issues with our body and food can range from a woman worrying about her weight and what to eat once in awhile, to, on other end of continuum, worrying every moment of every day. The pain some women carry around about their bodies and food can be devastating, and is fuelled by seemingly innocent conversations about weight, dieting and size of women’s breasts, thighs, and stomaches.

Take Maria, for example. Every morning when she wakes up, she mentally goes over 'flaws' of her body, wondering how she can slim her belly even further, how she can take pounds off her bum, and what she can wear to slim her body. She mentally skims through clothes she owns, wishing she had something that would make her body look better, to look less 'fat.' She wonders whether or not she should eat breakfast, exactly what she can put into her body, how many calories meal would have and how much exercise she'd have to do to burn off those calories.

Maria frequently compares herself to other women's bodies; women she meets and knows and women she sees in media. In her mind, her body always fall short. She doesn't believe it when people tell her she looks good. In fact, when someone tells her that she looks like she has lost weight, she 'feels fat' and tries even harder to lose weight. But, she doesn't starve herself, or make herself throw up, although she thinks she should.