You belched, leaning back and groaning. You'd really overdone it this time. But it was a special occasion wasn't it? You got a passing grade on a quiz. It was only a 3-minute one question quiz, but still, a pass was a pass. So, you took down some ice cream and a pizza. Then, later on, you got home a few minutes early. That deserved some chips and soda in front of the TV. Then because you were so good all day, having a salad before your quiz, you treated yourself with some Chinese takeout. Now you're sitting on the couch, surrounded in empty food containers, food smeared all over your skin and clothes, stomach pinning you to the couch.
You could remember just a few years ago when this would not have happened. A passing mark would have resulted in a pat on the back, and the salad would be the main meal of the day. You were trim, easily fitting into small-sized clothing and able to walk past the McDonalds at the edge of Walmart without being tempted. Today, each way passing McDonald's resulted in at least a combo meal and a large chocolate shake.
The change happened so suddenly, you couldn't pinpoint exactly when, but a few years ago, you began to crave carbs and gobble down sugary sweets with a vengeance. Every event you went to found you camped by the buffet table rather than flirting on the dance floor. Now instead of a partner, you have a hefty gut.
And oh, what a gut it is. Pushing out over your jeans, spreading open shirts, covered with red squiggly lines, your gut is the clear picture of overindulgence. Not so long ago it was taught, on display at the beach and the envy of others. Now it jiggles with every step you take, slapping against your thighs. Its not just the gut. Your thighs, which never crossed your mind, now rub together creating huge rashes. Your ass spreads over the sides of dining chairs and takes up two or more bus seats. Your arms suddenly seem to have sprouted sacks of fat that swing as they move.
Fit used to be a word to describe you, but today it is laughable. Getting up takes a few minutes of huffing and puffing, walking requires more swaying of the hips than it used to and running a few feet results in you collapsing, breathing so heavy that people may think you need to be hospitalized. Your friends used to describe you as the skinny one, always encouraging them on hikes and admonishing them for drinking soda over water. Now they refuse to be seen with you in public and look at you in your grease-stained clothes gobbling down dozens of doughnuts with utter disgust.
You attempted to avoid your distant relatives, but they saw you, whispered insults behind your back and not-so-subtly moving the dessert and carb-loaded dishes away from you. The joke is on them because you offer to put them away in the refrigerator in the garage and scarf down the leftovers meant to feed a family of four for a few days.
You're fat. You couldn't ignore your hunger; you could never satisfy that itch that was beneath your skin for years. Now you will never regain your model figure, be the pride of your hometown. You're a fat pig. And there is no going back now.
