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his stomach was rumbling. feeling defeated, he paused the youtube video he was watching. it was no use; the video wasn’t enough to distract him from the unbearable pain anymore. but he needed to kill time so desperately.
if there was nothing else left to do, he would eat, but he couldn’t get up and eat now. not enough time had passed since the last time he ate, and he knew that because he kept perfect track of it. he kept checking the time on his phone, kept calculating at which time each video would finish so he would know how many he would have to watch until he could dare to eat again. but said strategy wasn’t working anymore and he wanted to die. his body was screaming for calories, but he couldn’t.
if he gave in he wouldn’t be pretty.
if he gave in he wouldn’t lose any weight.
if he gave in the fat of his stomach and his thighs wouldn’t fade.
if he gave in he wouldn’t be happy.
if he gave in he would regret it.
he knew because whenever he ate he never felt pretty, never lost any weight, his stomach and his thighs never got thinner, he was never happy and always regretted it.
felix’s hatred for his big body ran deep.
his face was so beautiful, but the double chin which appeared depending on the angle he tilted his head ruined it.
even though he was a biological man, his chest wasn’t flat.
his waist was nice but got lost by the single huge fat roll of his stomach and his wide hips followed by hip dips.
his stomach was the worst. he always wasted so much water and time in the shower from looking down at his body and retracting his stomach so he would be able to see more than just his feet. he always noticed its presence, how his tops would bulge, how the fat roll would rest on his thighs while he was sitting down. the only time his stomach wouldn’t bother him was whenever he was lying down. that way it felt smaller too because gravity pushed down what it pushed out while he was standing.
but with lying came the second worst: his thighs. they always touched. he didn’t have a gap between them, but he wanted it to be there so badly. he hated feeling his thighs touch while he was standing, while he was walking, while he was sitting down, while he was lying down. there was no escape from it because no matter what he did, they always touched. the feel of fabric in between was better than of skin on skin, but he still hated it nearly as much. whenever the sensation would get extremely bad, he would spread his legs for a while so he could know what it’s like when they don’t touch.
felix had always been on the bigger side. he fears it’s genetic. he naturally has a curvier body no matter what he does; he naturally gains fat faster.
during his school days, he already didn’t belong to the skinny kids. among his friends he was always the big one. he hated being the big friend. he hated being proclaimed ugly because of his body. he was so much nicer than his friends, his face was so much more beautiful than theirs, but he didn’t have the body to match any of those two things, so he never got chosen. nobody was ever attracted to him, asked him out or even paid attention to him. the only time people came up to him was to say, you’re friends with him right? tell him i wanna go out with him. when it happened for the first time, he was naive. he thought the girl coming his way was grinning because of him, but when she asked about that long-haired friend of his, the smile on his face dropped. what a stupid thing to think. of course she wouldn’t want the fatty.
from then on, his role in the friend group was the ugly one. he would always watch his friends flirt and get dates with envy and be the one who, by the end of the day wouldn’t have a new contact saved on his phone. when they got older his friends would often get harassed by strangers – mainly elder men – get catcalled or groped, and felix knew that it was fucked up, that it was wrong, and disgusting, and nothing anybody ever wants to experience, but he couldn’t help feeling jealous. his friends were desirable; that's why these strangers kept telling them that they wanted to have sex with them. the reason why they never said the same things to him was because he wasn’t desirable. he wasn’t attractive like his friends, and after internalizing that thought, he caught himself multiple times wishing to be harassed. it would mean that at least somebody wants him. but not even creeps wanted him.
all he needed to be attractive was to lose weight and get thinner. people would start liking him if he became that. so he tried hard. he started eating less, not finishing his plate, claiming he was full. then he stopped eating snacks, keeping it strictly breakfast, lunch and dinner only. then he started skipping breakfast. not long after he started skipping lunch, so all he would allow himself to have would be dinner. sometimes he would skip that too and just drink two energy drinks. they had calories in them too, so it would cancel out.
that’s what he always told himself.
he was fine.
he had it under control.
he was just dieting.
he genuinely wasn’t hungry.
but no he was. his stomach made that loud and clear every time, and sometimes he would give in to the sounds, jump from his bed, and eat. eat too much. stuffing everything edible he could find, inside his body. he didn’t want to do it, he just did and didn’t know why.
today was one of those days.
while he was searching for the food, he would second guess his decision and try to stop himself before he started eating too much. during his binge, he would second guess his decision and try to stop himself again before he ate even more than he already had. and then it was too late. the calories inside of him, the fat cells rapidly multiplying on his body, his stomach bloated.
he felt horrible.
leaning against the fridge, he broke down in tears. he would never be pretty like this. he would never lose any weight like this. he would never lose the fat on his stomach and his thighs like this. he would never be happy like this. he would never not regret what he just did.