Irony (from the Ancient Greek meaning hypocrisy, deception, or feigned ignorance) is a literary or rhetorical device, in which there is an incongruity or discordance between what one says or does and what one means or what is generally understood. Irony is a mode of expression that calls attention to the character's knowledge and that of the audience.

My poor husband. A man never loved a women more. In and of itself, that love is what makes me devoted to him. I would fight kingdoms and nations, defy heaven and hell, crawl through deserts, swim oceans and scale majestic mountains for him; but when it comes to weight control, the man...drives me CRAZY!! I've blogged plenty about that before; this blog belongs to the irony of it all.

The main reason I love my husband is because of the way loves me. If he didn't love me beyond all others, blind to all my faults, driven to please me...I'd be gone. I'm used to the attention. I'm used to being forgiven instantly for temper tantrums. I'm used to saying "honey, I want..." and then receiving. I'm hopelessly spoiled and I like it. He thinks I'm perfect in everything I say and do, can find no fault and wants nothing more than to spend every last breath worshiping at my feet. The irony? That is exactly why he drives me crazy.

So, who has the problem here? He is exactly what I want and expect, and for that I cry out in frustration? In response to a previous blog I posted, where I once more complained ungratefully about the love and attention that is showered upon me, a comment was made about how my husband might suffer from low self-esteem; thus, the need to cling to me for constant approval. I think that incite is right on the money.

There has got to be a middle ground. I have to give a little compassion and expect/demand less attention. He has to realize his own worth, and give me some space and demand less time. The love we have has no limits, no boundaries. Sabotaging my weight loss efforts with food and restriction on exercise time is not the answer. Allowing him to serve my every need only adds fuel to the fire that makes me burn with frustration. The love we have has no limits, so we either work this out...again, or we spend the rest of eternity bonded in battle. There has got to be a middle ground.

There is some argument about what qualifies as ironic, but all senses of irony revolve around the perceived notion of an incongruity between what is expressed and what is intended, or between an understanding or expectation of a reality and what actually happens, "when the literal truth is in direct discordance to the perceived truth."