Hey, hey Waffle gang, I do hope you are well. My name is Mark and today we're checking out some more relationship stories.

And if you do love a Reddit story, why not consider him that like, that subscribe, maybe that notification bell too.

And let's crack on with today's first story. Much love guys.

This story comes from 450 pound throw this away,

who says, am I 28 female, a horrible person for giving my 450 pound husband, 31 male, of three

years an ultimatum about his weight. And this does come with an update. The title pretty much explains

it all. Some details may have been altered for privacy's sake. When my husband and I first got

together, he was already overweight. I knew this going into the relationship. However, he had

expressed a strong desire to lose weight, plus I really loved him, so things just continued from there.

I've always tried to be supportive and encouraging, inviting him with me when I go work out, buying healthy choices from the grocery store, etc.

He rejects my offers and buys himself Taco Bell or whatever fast food is closest whenever he can.

Predictably, none of this has had any effect.

He has gained 70 pounds in the past two years alone.

The last thing I want to do is come home someday when we are in our 40s or 50s to find him dead,

lying on the floor of a heart attack.

This is my fear. Every day I see him eating enormous portions. 50s to find him dead, lying on the floor of a heart attack.

This is my fear.

Every day I see him eating enormous portions, choosing candy and coke over healthier options.

Every day I see him so inactive that he gets a dema in his ankles and feet from sitting

still so long, staring at a screen.

It kills me to see this and he might as well be doing

meth or straight up drinking poison. Either way, he is killing his body. And then there's

...