“Anya… just think about it,” Lyosha said, moving away the plate of cutlet and pasta that Anna had just placed in front of herself. At the same time, he happily started eating his own meal. Seeing the question in Anna’s eyes, he added:
“You’re always saying that you get tired, that walking is difficult, that your jeans feel tight. Maybe it’s time to lose a little weight? Why do you even need dinner? Give me your cutlet…”
Anya looked at him condescendingly. Almost every evening he ate at her place. Along with pasta, he would ask for bread, generously spread mayonnaise or ketchup over it, and then demand seconds.
For some reason, that was considered perfectly normal.
But the moment Anya sat down to eat after a difficult day at work, a whole storm of criticism came crashing down on her. “I haven’t worn jeans in a long time, Lyosha,” she replied. “They’re uncomfortable, and besides, I prefer an office style. And I’m tired because I get home at nine, and then instead of resting, I cook dinner for you!”
He sighed and looked at Anna reproachfully.
“I’m not your enemy! Quite the opposite, I care about you. This isn’t criticism. It’s just… I remember you differently. If you lost five or six kilos, you’d be much more attractive. I love you, and I want you to be perfect. When we first started dating, you were so light, so beautiful.”
He bit his tongue and immediately tried to correct himself.
“And now, of course…”
“…I’m beautiful, but heavy and with a belly,” Anya mocked him. “Just say what you really mean. And don’t forget to mention my mother. According to you, she could look better too. Except my father loves calling her his ‘plump little darling,’ and she has no intention of losing weight.”
Alexey reached over and finally took a bite of her cutlet before continuing:
“You make everything complicated. I’m not humiliating you. I just want you to become even better. Is that so bad?”
She took her plate away from him and moved it to the other side of the table.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you consider yourself perfect?”
“What does this have to do with me?” He frowned.
“Everything! You haven’t been to the gym once since New Year’s!”
“Oh, here we go,” he said irritably. “I was just trying to help. And you immediately start throwing accusations at me. I understand that you have those genes… But what can you do? You have to work on yourself!”
“You want to ‘improve’ me without even looking at yourself. Let’s be honest. You’ve started going bald, but you refuse to admit it. Your part isn’t just uneven anymore — there’s a visible patch there, Lyosha. Uncle Vadim had a hair transplant. Maybe it’s time for you too?”
“He’s practically an old man! I’m only thirty!” Lyosha’s face turned red.
“Well, then you were less lucky with your genes than Uncle Vadim. That means you should start thinking about your appearance now.”
Anya deliberately mirrored his own words.
“Not funny, is it? Did you seriously think I enjoyed hearing advice about the perfect figure from a man whose stomach hangs over his belt? Do you even like the way you look?”
“That’s not the same thing. I’m a man. Imperfections in men don’t stand out as much as they do in women.”
“Ah, of course,” she nodded. “Men get a social discount for stubble, baldness, being poorly groomed, and having fat sides. But women are supposed to look like magazine-cover beauties. Not a single flaw allowed.
“But you know what’s worst? Deep down, you probably don’t even care. Maybe you really could love me the way I am, but you’re too easily influenced. Influenced by stereotypes.
“You want me to lose weight. You want me to look like one of the models you follow on social media. You want a girlfriend you can show off in front of your friends.
“And I want simple female happiness. And children. By the way, extremely skinny sticks can’t have children because of malnutrition.”
He finished his pasta and pushed the plate away.
“I don’t need a ‘stick.’ I was just trying to hint… Maybe you could finally sign up for a gym? I could give you a membership as a present. It would motivate you.”
“That ‘hint’ turned out to be pretty fat. Just like my stomach. Fortunately, I can spare you the sight of this ‘disaster,’” Anya shot back and pointed toward the door.
“But what about… this? You know…” Lyosha scratched himself awkwardly and glanced toward the bedroom.
“You mean the dishes? Right! Before you leave, wash your plate and put it away.”
“I’m not talking about the dishes. I mean ‘dessert,’” Lyosha blurted out. “I’ve eaten. Now we can…”
“Come back for dessert after you get a hair transplant,” Anya muttered, leaving Lyosha standing there, confused and scratching where it itched.
Alexey left.
For three days, he said nothing.
On the fourth day, he came to her place expecting dinner. After repeatedly ringing the intercom and getting no answer, he sent her a message:
“If you come to your senses, text me. I still want to be with you. And with your cutlets.”
She didn’t reply.
Because she understood that what he wanted beside him wasn’t really her.
He wanted the ideal woman he had created in his imagination.
A universal woman in lace and high heels, standing beside a frying pan full of crispy cutlets for dinner. She was also supposed to bring home a good salary, never ask him for money or gifts, be ready whenever he wanted, never have a headache, and somehow find his baldness attractive.
And in whatever spare time remained after serving His Majesty, she was expected to run to the gym and build perfect abdominal muscles.
Anya had never been that kind of woman, and she had no intention of becoming one.
But she did intend to become a good mother and a loving wife.
Apparently, just not for Alexey.
After breaking up with the man she had once considered the man of her dreams, Anna nevertheless decided to change something.
But instead of going on diets or exhausting herself with fitness routines, she booked an appointment with a stylist.
She needed an honest opinion.
Maybe she really was too fat?
“You have an amazing figure,” the stylist told her. “An hourglass shape, feminine curves, a full bust… Lots of women dream of having a figure like yours! But you’re hiding everything you have. And that’s a shame.”
Anya tried on a dress with a flattering neckline and shoes with a low, stable heel.
For a touch of romance and intrigue, she tied a scarf around her neck and gasped when she looked at herself in the mirror.
“I think a layered haircut would suit you. A few highlights would freshen you up, but keep your natural color — your hair is gorgeous. And don’t forget about accents. Emphasize either your eyes or your lips.”
The stylist gave it 200 percent.
Anya practically flew home as if she had grown wings.
Soon, inspired by the professional advice, she changed her wardrobe and then her hairstyle.
She started wearing makeup not just “for special occasions,” but whenever she felt like it.
She got rid of clothes that restricted her and all the pieces she had been saving for some imaginary future when she would “finally lose weight.”
Clothes that actually fit her, when chosen correctly, looked far better than she had ever imagined.
“Wow, Anya, your waist is so narrow… and those curves… like a violin,” one of her colleagues exclaimed admiringly.
In general, Anya started receiving a huge number of compliments, which naturally pleased her.
And yet she hadn’t really changed.
She was still the same Anya.
In fact, she had even gained a little weight after the May holidays.
It was at a barbecue with friends that she met Konstantin.
He didn’t look like Apollo.
But he had beautiful eyes and an incredibly kind smile.
He didn’t measure her waist or comment on her shape.
He simply brought her flowers and constantly repeated:
“You’re beautiful. So feminine. Like a sweet bun with raisins.”
Anya laughed whenever he said it and never even thought of interpreting the compliment as a comment about her weight.
Kostya never asked:
“When are you going to the gym?”
Instead, he would ask:
“Did you remember your umbrella?”
Or:
“Are you dressed warmly enough? It’s chilly tonight.”
And in return, he received warmth, care, and comfort from Anya.
A year later, they got married.
Two years after that, Anna gave birth to their first child.
And… she lost a little weight.
Once again, Konstantin didn’t reproach her or demand that she change herself to meet his standards by gaining the weight back.
He didn’t love an “image.”
He loved a person.
And that happy person loved him too.
That was the secret of their ideal marriage.
About five years later, Anna accidentally ran into Lyosha at a shopping mall.
He was standing near a cosmetics display.
His hair had become much thinner, and there was even less of it than before, but he still insisted on wearing it parted.
At first, he didn’t recognize his former love.
He approached her, glancing uncertainly in her direction, and finally gathered the courage to ask:
“Anya? Is that you?!”
“It’s me.”
“I wouldn’t have recognized you if it weren’t for your eyes. You look pretty good. Did you lose weight?”
“I don’t know. I threw the scales away together with your toothbrush,” she laughed.
“So… how is everything? Are you doing well?” he asked in a tone that suggested he was hoping to hear some hesitation.
“Yes. I’m happy. Very happy,” she replied.
“And you?”
“I’m still wondering whether I should shave my head or get a transplant. But honestly… I’m scared. What if I end up completely bald?”
Anna burst out laughing so loudly that Lyosha started to feel uncomfortable.
“I… thought about texting you,” he said. “I wanted to many times. But somehow I never had the courage… And I suppose you’re not alone anymore?”
“Yeah, I’m married,” Anna replied after she stopped laughing. “We have a child, and everything is wonderful. Anyway, Alexey, I have to go. I’m going to pay for my shopping and then head to the prenatal clinic to register. We’re expecting our second baby.”
“Oh…” Lyosha breathed, unable to find the words to congratulate her.
He simply waved goodbye.
She walked away, while he remained standing beside the counter, holding a bottle labeled:
“For Thickness and Strength.”
He couldn’t decide whether he should buy it.
Would it work?
Would the result be perfect, or would it simply be a waste of money?
He had seen the advertisement, but he still had doubts.
Most importantly, he still didn’t know what he truly wanted from life.
And it was unlikely that this Lyosha would ever figure it out.