In the past the hubby was a bit critical of me trying to lose. Not because he wanted me fat and not because he felt threatened in any way, but because he didn't hold the same priorities over it that I did, and didn't want to see me hurt myself over some unrealistic ideal. But over time he's adapted to my new habits pretty well where he was previously judgmental.
For example, he initially thought the idea of me keeping a food journal was "obsessive;" now that he's seen how much it helps me he's been very supportive of it and even occasionally asks if I'm keeping up with it properly. He doesn't really comment one way or the other about my food choices, although he'll sometime tease me in a good-natured way when I steal some of his fries or ask to share a dessert. He's become a bit more health-conscious himself (yay!) and doesn't even feel tempted to sabotage me by storing certain treats in the house, as he knows he doesn't really need them either.
I think I've gotten a lot better at handling criticism in general, but I believe a big part of that comes from the confidence I've gained from my successes in the past year. I have a good idea of what works for me and what doesn't, what I can occasionally splurge on, and what I personally need to avoid, but am still open to reasonable advice. What I can't stand is someone looking over my plate and telling me I need to learn to eat more ____ or how I'll never lose if I let myself eat ____. I'm sure to let them know I'm doing just fine as-is, thankyouverymuch.
My ex was notorious about his issues with food, much worse than I ever was (and I was admittedly pretty bad at one point). I think he was much more comfortable with me being fat, yet he would constantly make snide comments about how much better things would be if I was "skinny and hot" and would very obviously stare at conventionally attractive women. He'd even remark that my tummy got in the way of certain things . . . never mind that his was bigger than mine.

And then he'd turn around and freak out if I didn't want to indulge along with his binges. He got extremely angry with me once for declining to eat at a place I had clear allergies to, telling me it was all in my head, that I wouldn't get sick, and that he couldn't enjoy his food from there unless I was eating the food too. I told him to go ahead and have it if he wanted, but no . . . he preferred having me throw up for a week rather than be forced to eat his treats alone. Funny how the criticism was the absolute worst from him, but he was obviously uncomfortable with his own weight and wasn't ready to do anything about it. Much of that was projected onto me I think, and he took it as personal insults any time I showed any effort in making either of us healthier.