So High School

I hosted parties and starved my body

A/N Taylor is BEAUTIFUL, people who comment on her body and just disgusting. They are jealous because she's stunning and successful and they are ugly nobodies. IN NO WAY IN THIS STORY AM I SAYING ANY OF THIS IS TRUE AND WHAT I THINK. She is genuinely one of the prettiest people I've ever seen and she is NOT FAT.

TW

One post. One stupid comment, sending her spiralling down into the depths of despair. The pit that she had fought so hard to get out of, the pit that had had her trapped for many years of her life. She was doing better. Travis had taught her to love herself, and she did. Well, she did before.

Going on Twitter was the first mistake she made. Before breakfast, before Travis was even awake, scrolling and scrolling. She came across a video of her in her new orange bodysuit. Smiling, she opened the comments. This new one was one of her favourites; she loved the colour, and Travis had said she looked amazing in it.

The first few comments made her smile even more; talking about how beautiful the new outfit was, lovely things like that. But she made the mistake of scrolling too far.

'Is she pregnant?'
'How far along is she?'
'She's really let herself go'

On and on and on, the words eventually blurring together on the screen. With each word her smile dropped, the pit in her stomach forming. Widening with each comment, with each word she read.

With shaking fingers she closed the video, opening the search bar instead. 'Taylor Swift pregnant' she typed. Hundreds of videos, her reputation outfit, her lover bodysuit. The dress she wore last Thursday. And every post was the same, saying she had gained weight. Saying she was pregnant. And every post sent a punch to her gut, making her feel sick.

She wasn't that much bigger than before, was she? Obviously she had gained weight, she knew that. She assumed it was because she was happy, and Travis had convinced her it was healthy. She wasn't a healthy weight before, back when she counted the calories of everything that went in her mouth. Travis had removed all scales from the house and had been her rock in recovery. She hadn't relapsed in over two years, she was doing well.

But now she was thinking, the wheels in her brain turning. How long had it been since she last weighed herself? Too long. She had a scale hidden under the sink, one Travis didn't know about. She hadn't used it yet, too afraid of what it could do to her, if how it could change her life. Ruin her. But... Maybe it was time. She just needed to make sure she was healthy, that she wasn't eating too much. Maybe she could just cut down a bit, lose some of that fat from her stomach?

Suddenly the door to the living room creaked open as Travis stepped in, his hair tousled from sleep.
"Hey baby" he yawned, flopping down on the sofa next to Taylor. He reached out, wrapping his arms around her stomach. Taylor quickly pulled away, shifting uncomfortably.

His arms were around her stomach. What if he had felt the fat? What is he didn't love her anymore?

Travis looked at her, confusion written all over his face.
"Have you had breakfast? Should I make us pancakes?" He asked, brushing his initial concern off.
"Um, I've already eaten. I'm going to go have my shower" Taylor stood up quickly, avoiding his eyes.
"Oh, okay" Taylor couldn't help but feel terrible at how disappointed he sounded. "If you wait a bit I can join you?" It was more of a question, his voice laced with hope.
"Um, actually I kinda want to have it by myself..?" Her voice was quiet, her arms wrapped around herself.
"Okay" Travis nodded, unable to hide the disappointment etched onto his face. Look what you've done Taylor. Upsetting everyone around you. No wonder no one likes you.

She rushed towards the door, trying to hide the tears that were gathering in her eyes.
"Oh and Tay, baby? Remember that we've got some friends coming over later for a barbeque later" Shit. She had forgotten about that. A barbeque meant food, all that fatty meat. And those 'salads' filled with calories. And the pool. The pool, which meant she would have to wear a bikini. Shit.