Listening to the faint noise of your husband moving around downstairs, you looked through your wardrobe with a hum, looking at your reflection in the mirror every few minutes as you held an article of clothing in front of you, as if to check if it would still look good on you.

Of course it would. Your clothes from when you were a kid would probably still fit.

With a frown, you pause, staring at your reflection. Sometimes, you didn't understand what your husband saw in you. John was everything you weren't. Big, strong, muscular, thick...

Your amazing husband had a large, thick body covered in muscles and a healthy layer of fat. Meanwhile, you were flat as a board.

Swallowing, you take your shirt off, turning this way and that, searching for curves that didn't exist. Anything that made you... well, attractive.

Thick thighs, wide hips, a soft chest, a round butt. But there was nothing. It was like you had the body of a child.

How could your husband stand to look at you? To love you? Sleep with you? It must be uncomfortable, you think, to make love to something so... flat. Like a plank of wood made of flesh and blood.

John deserved so much better than you could give him.

Lost in thought as you were, you didn't hear John stomping up the stairs. He peeked his head into the room, smiling as he saw you. Walking up to you, he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Mmm, what are you doing, love?" He asks in a low rumble, kissing your shoulder as he eyes you up lovingly, a bit of desire darkening his gaze.