One month before the wedding, my fiancé suddenly became obsessed with losing weight and swore he'd get down to a hundred and twenty pounds. I called off the engagement without a second thought. His eyes went red as he demanded, hurt and indignant, "What's wrong with wanting to look good at our own wedding? Would you rather marry me out of shape?" I didn't say a word. I just pulled out my phone and played a video. In the six-figure car I'd bought him, two bodies were tangled together, whispering promises to each other. "I'm only with her for the money. You're the only one I actually want to marry. Hit your target weight, get your body right, and I'll marry you." I watched the color drain from my fiancé's face, and I smiled. "Two hours in the gym with you every single day. Every low-calorie meal. And the second you slimmed down, you wanted to marry someone else."