Hungry

Then she hands him his weed pen to relieve the pain in his belly, and soon he’s begging for something else to eat because he’s starving.

“The gym serves these recipes for diet plans. Including shakes. So I made some. You don’t even need to exercise much, the weight’ll just fall off.”

Unbeknownst to him, one shake features protein powder, peanut butter, caramel sauce, melted chocolate, milk, cream, ice cream, and an appetite stimulant.

He goes through about two or three a day.

Three weeks later, he weighs himself and asks his girlfriend to read the numbers from under his gut.

She makes the mistake of telling him he’s gained five pounds.

“It’s all the chemicals in the food,” she insists. “No one stands a chance.”

To settle his agitation, she tells him she’s switched to fat free butter and cream and other things. He doesn’t cook, she does. He thanks her for being so supportive.

The next weigh in is four weeks after the last.

+8lbs. She gasps. “You’ve lost five pounds!”

He rubs his swollen belly, sighing in relief as he steps off and sits down on the shower chair his girlfriend took out to support him. She puts the scale away and gropes his tits playfully. “These’ll be gone in no time.”

He casts a dubious glance at them. “Really? I know you like them.”

“I love them,” she agrees. “They’re so sexy.”

“Maybe I’ll lose weight but not enough to lose them.”

She beams. “Maybe.”

The next visit home several months later features him significantly larger. His stomach pools more, there’s definitely no more lap left; his hips hurt from spreading his thighs enough to let his belly settle. His arms look heavy; his second chin looks suffocating. His T-shirt hasn’t been sized up yet. Heavy moobs press through his shirt, looking big and tender enough to feed an infant.

At the last visit, he could still get up with a large grunt, but now it takes him so many attempts that it’s easier for him to plant his ass in his parents’ poor couch and let her pile his plate with snacks and food from the dinner table.

His brother calls him a pig for belching so loud spit flies. It embarrasses him enough to make his stomach churn.

His girlfriend coaxes him to let it all out later on when the bottom of his belly is getting firmer. She presses her fingers in, he farts, and his father calls it disgusting.

His mother attempts to be the most patient. Says no one can help a little wind. But…

“I thought you said on all of our calls that you were dieting,” she says, white in the face over jiggling arms and sagging elbows.

“I have been dieting,” he sulks. His stomach churns in protest. Stress isn’t good for digestion, his girlfriend keeps saying.

“He’s been doing so well,” his girlfriend agrees. “In fact, he’s been going so hard with all the exercise he’s been told he might need a CPAP soon.”

He flushes red. He’s not ready for that at all. His doctor, the asshole, said he should have been seen for one ‘at least 50lbs ago’.

His mother doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the night. The goodbyes at the door are quiet, dissonant.

At home, the girlfriend helps her sorry boyfriend to the couch and consoles him. “There’s just no pleasing some people. I think you should stop trying. You’ve lost weight, the scale says so, so why not just let go? Dieting is only stressing you out, and the lack of positive replies just stresses you out more. Your tummy was so upset earlier, I could feel it.”

“Mm. Rub it, babe? It’s really full. My mom must have been using full-fat butter and my body just wasn’t used to it.”

“Of course.” His girlfriend kneels in the space beside him on the couch.

She kneads his belly dutifully. He fights a burp into the back of his hand.

“Hey, none of that. You know I love it when you let it all out. You need to stop fighting it. I love you for who you are, baby. You don’t need to worry about any diets or manners to impress me.”

She presses in, he belches loud and long and she kisses him with a moan. “My – gorgeous – man.” A kiss between every word. “Gorgeous – sexy – handsome – man.”

He moans into it.

“You should have room for dessert now, right! I’ll go get the brownies I made earlier. Sound good?”

Yeah. That sounds good.