Tiny Little, Eater

Today is a very special day for me. It is the day when I'm officially turning into an adult, my eighteenth birthday. The day you turn eighteen is obviously very important for everybody, but I would dare to say that for me it's little more significant day than for most people. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Christina Little, but everybody calls me Tiny and the story I'm about to tell you started long four years ago...

I always thought that our family name 'Little' was kinda ironic, because none of the family fitted into the image people would get when they heard it. Well, no one except for me. There was my dad, bear of a man, well over 6 feet with a proper beer gut. My mom was also very tall, just an inch or two short of 6 feet, with a soft padding evenly spread across her body. Even Marty, my little brother, was clearly showing that he would carry on in the family legacy, already almost a full foot taller than me wrapped in a healthy layer of pudge. Me? I wasn't even 4 and half feet of skin and bones. Sure I had couple more years to catch up, but I knew it wasn't very likely. There was no wonder that they started to call me Tiny. Even among my peers I was always the shortest and skinniest and somehow the nickname spread even there, but to be honest it never really bothered me. I was short and skinny, so what? I accepted I'll always be like that and so I embraced the nickname and wore it proudly. One day everything changed.

It was a day like any other and by the time we sat at a family dinner nothing suggested it wouldn't end that way. Meals in my family always reminded me of some sort of a competition. Everybody piled their plates high with a massive amount of food and then started devouring them with an unbelievable gusto. Once again, everybody except for me. For the millionth time in my life I rolled my eyes at the "You'll never grow if you will eat like that" speech. Sure, they were probably right, but why would I want to eat more than my fill? It didn't make sense to me.

After the dinner my parents left to meet with some friends and put me as the older and more responsible in the charge of the house. Like there was something I could do if Marty would decide to misbehave. He would probably blow me away if he wanted to. But he was a good kid and we ended up watching cartoons. It changed my life.

I can't remember what cartoon we were watching. All I remember is the main character, tiny little creature, overlooked, mocked and ridiculed by all the other characters, getting so big and fat throughout the episode that no one else would dare to hurt him anymore. It was a kid's show so he obviously didn't get back at others, but instead taught them that they didn't have to be mean like that, before returning to his original size, but there was something so... right about it. About being so big that no one could touch you. Something clicked in my mind that evening. For the first time in my life I felt as if I was missing something. Later that night I raided the fridge for the first time in my life, eating more food than ever before.

The rest of my family was obviously thrilled when I began to participate on their daily dinner tradition. I never felt closer to them, like I was finally part of the family. It was weird, eating past the feeling of fullness, right into the point where I couldn't possibly eat another bite, leaving the table with taut, distended stomach. Day by day my portions grew bigger and bigger, as did my desire to eat. Each bite seemed to taste just that tiny bit better than the last.

A few months have passed by and nothing much has changed. My bones that used stick out of my body were now nicely hidden under a thin layer of meat and even the tiniest of potbellies decided to grace me with its presence. I can't even describe how excited it made me. Looking back at it now, it was really weird thing to celebrate for girl of my age.