During our longish American marriage, my wife had gained 32 pounds and I'd gained 47. I kept eating, but she joined a gym, met a group of middle-aged women triathlon-training, and swam, biked, and ran herself back into her teenage body.

I was her support crew for the first three races, but grew so embarrassed by my size amidst so many fit men and women that I had to stop going. And then, mortified to be nude in the presence of my wife's lean beauty, I stopped asking for sex. I am not one of those fat men who will go publicly shirtless. And I had become a fat man who could not remove his shirt in private.

So, of course, my wife entered into an affair. But I was surprised she fell in love with another woman. And shocked that she left me for her.

It's been three years since the divorce. I do Weight Watchers Online and keep losing and gaining the same 20 pounds. Mr. Diabetes has moved into the apartment next door and I think he's been stealing my mail.

I miss my wife. I know where she swims in the morning. So, predawn, I park my car near the lake and watch her. She knows I'm there. She knows I still love her. And she keeps swimming.