Day 2 - If it's not one thing, it's your mother

Last night, my first night alone, was predictably awful.
I had been trying all evening to get in touch with my parents because tonight was supposed to be a family dinner for my birthday. Since I obviously don't feel in the most celebratory of moods, I wanted to let my parents know -in short form- what is going on so that I could excuse myself from my own birthday dinner.
Oddly enough, my parents stayed out until 11:30, so I spent over 2 hours in a mild form of panic as I tried over and over to get in touch with them. Though they are probably the best of intentions, my mother likes to know exactly what is going on at all times and there are some things that I'd just rather not talk about. Add to that the fact that our relationship hasn't been without it's own share of trauma (including a particularly bad exchange on my wedding day that resulted in months of not talking and then several more months in mediation to work things out), I felt like my heart might explode while I was trying to get in touch with her to tell her my marriage is on the rocks.
I finally did get a hold of her and she did ask me a load of questions that I didn't, and still don't, feel ready to answer and while she did let me out of the birthday dinner, she also said we would get together today for tea.
What else then would wake me up today after having finally fallen asleep at around 9 am then a call from my mother to tell me, not so much ask me, that we were going out for a walk?
Three hours later, my mother has left and I find myself in my empty condo once again. She's told me that she plans to call every day to check in with me and also has plans to come over and take my dog out in the mornings. Luckily, my condo unit door has a bizarrely high-tech lock that makes it impossible to get keys cut so I can't give her a key and what she will likely consider an open invitation to my home. One crisis avoided.
I appreciate the concern but there are some things that are better left unsaid between a mother and daughter, especially one that is quick to ask if my marital problems are caused by my weight. In that I weigh too much, that is.
Of course, I told her no. The "I told you so" and the "Let's go to the gym together every day until you're fit and skinny" is more than I can take right now. Ironically, my mother's fixation with my weight started long before I was over weight. And yes, it is a huge issue in my marriage but to admit that to the person who has always made you feel like the fattest girl in the room? It's just not going to happen.
Besides, is weight gain a legitimate reason for walking out of a marriage? Is attraction between two people conditional on their partner's weight? For my husband, it is. And for his asshole single friends with their stick-insect-bodied girlfriends and insistence on Brazilian waxed lady parts, it's a huge deal-breaker.
When did the shapeless, hairless body type of a 12 year old boy become the ideal male fantasy? Worse, though, when did that fantasy trump the commitment of a marriage?
Regardless, that's not the only issue that got us to the place we're at today (Read: two separate places) but it's also the one that I am going to keep fairly tight-lipped about because being left is humiliating enough. Being left because you're too fat? A whole other level of humiliation that I am not prepared for.