Like you, JJ, I think my other half gets more unsympathy from me than I get from him. He's brilliant - tells me I'm gorgeous whether I'm my "normal" size, a skinny runner like I am now, or like the blob I rapidly became during each pregnancy (good thing I didn't keep on my pregnancy weight gain or I'd be 26 stone now).
On the other hand, he was a skinny boy when we met and is now about 13 stone, which isn't totally OTT for a six-footer, and has an excuse because he is on medication which has weight gain as an almost inevitable side-effect. Unfortunately, every extra ounce has gone on his G.U.T. and he gets teased mercilesly by the grannies about "when's it due, then?", Kevin worries because she doesn't want to end up with Daddy's tummy, and I keep trying to make him eat proper meals (which he does - and then the rest) and exercise. Which sounds awful, but I'm really quite fond of him and want to keep him alive as long as possible.