The chip bag crinkles as I shove my hand into in search for another greasy chip. My eyes stay glued onto the screen in front of me as my favorite T.V. show plays. I find myself greedily shoving food into my mouth as I sit on the edge of my seat, watching intently while the last scene of the episode plays out.
The screen cuts to black and credits start to roll, signaling the end of the episode and I throw my face into my hands as I let out a long groan. I rub my face on again, knowing I have to wait until next week to find out what happens next.
I hear the front door open and close and I turn to see a sweaty Mark stand in front of me.
"Hey baby, how was your workout?" I ask as I force myself up off the couch to greet him. I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my head up so his lips can meet mine.
I pull away and smile up at him, but his eyes aren't on me. He's scanning the coffee table where my mess of empty chip bags and candy bar wrappers lay. The look on his face is unreadable.
Thinking the mess bothers him, I walk over to the table and start to gather everything in my arms.
"When was the last time you when to the gym?" Mark asks as I make my way to the garbage can in the kitchen.
I think for a minute, "Probably three weeks ago? I can't really remember." I open the trash can and dump the countless wrappers into it. I brush past Mark and start to search through the cabinet next to his head.
"What are you doing?"
"Um," I look over at Mark like he has two heads, "Finding something to eat? I'm hungry." I continue to dig through the cabinet until I find a small package of cookies.
I feel Mark walk up behind me and grab the package out of my hands. "Do you really think you need that? I mean, you haven't been working out as much as you should and we don't want you to gain any more weight than you have. How about I make you a salad or something?" his voice is firm and I find myself feeling small.
I feel myself freeze as Mark puts the package of the cookie back in the cabinet. Have I really been putting on that much weight? I didn't see or feel a difference. I put my hands on my stomach and look up at Mark.
"Oh come on (Y/n), don't look at me like that! I just saying pretty soon you won't be able to see your toes!" he laughs and I resist the urge to cry.
"Yeah Mark, you can make me that salad. Thanks, babe," I say in a small voice with my head bows down. Mark reaches over and places his hands on my stomach and laughs. I want to pull it away and run away from him. I can feel my wall that hides my real emotion from him crumble and start to break, tears flooding my eyes.
I watch Mark start pull salad ingredients out of the fridge and I leave the kitchen. I run into our shared bedroom and immediately pull off my shirt. I stand in front of our full-length mirror that sits on our closet door and gasps at the figure that greets me.
My stomach seems to reach the ground and my thighs way too thick. Rolls cover the entirety of my upper torso. I reach down and grab at my stomach as salty tears make their way down my face. I am too consumed by the horror that is me. Mark was right, I looked like I gained a good ten pounds.
It feels like forever I stand there, just staring at myself.
"(Y/n), what are you doing?" I didn't even hear Mark come in. My eyes flick over to him and I see him standing there, salad in hand. I start to reach for it but Mark just shakes his head. "No, you don't need this."
"But you said..." I trail off as I start to reach for the bowl once again.
He sighs, "I know what I said, but I was wrong. I shouldn't have said that it was me and rude. I'm a jerk." He shakes his head once again and sets the salad down next to him. "Look what I did. I come into our bedroom and find you standing in front of the mirror shirtless with tears running down your face. You were going to eat that salad just to make me happy."
Mark looked down and runs his hand through his hair, "Oh God, (Y/n), I'm so sorry. I made you think you needed to change yourself to please me, I made you think lower of yourself and I'm so sorry." Mark walks up to me and gathers me in his arms. I can feel his abs press against my unfit stomach through his shirt and I stare longingly at the salad over his shoulder.
"Come on, let's go pig out on the couch," he says with a wide smile as he drags me by my hand to the living room.
Mark pops in a movie and plops onto the couch next to me. Only then do I realize I'm still shirtless. I cross my arms over my stomach and glance over at Mark. I let out a breath when I realize he's not staring at me. I never want him to see me shirtless ever again.
Mark laughs at the movie playing while shoving junk food into his mouth, but I don't eat anything. I don't even focus on the movie, all I can think of is a new workout routine for me.
