It is so subtle, isn't it?
You never wanted to gain weight. Well, that's a stretch. You never wanted it to be your fault. Even now, you still find ways to blame me.
It started so subtly. One extra plate of sushi. Three became four. Four became five. And sometimes, five became seven. But sushi is healthy, isn't it? Besides, if your partner is paying, the calories don't count.
Then came the pizza. Four slices used to satisfy you. Now, you could polish off a stuffed-crust pizza without thinking twice. I ate a slice of our two, of course. That made it our pizza, didn't it? Certainly not just yours.
The subtlety was lost on me. I watched every little change. You were the only one pretending not to notice. Your appetite doubled. Your portions doubled. Eventually, so did you.
The first casualty was your favourite pair of jeans. They just... wouldn't... quite make it over your hips anymore. You stood there tugging and wriggling until you were breathless, cheeks flushed. I couldn't stop watching the soft curve of your body as it resisted every inch of stubborn fabric. The way your belly ever subtly jiggles. The way your tummy rolls accentuates your figure. Yet, you insisted they'd just shrunk in the wash. Denim does that. It was completely out of your control.
Then your shorts just suddenly stopped zipping. Goodness, fatty... however, did that happen? I recall you complaining how your thighs rubbed together long before the zipper "broke." Somehow, that memory disappeared as quickly as your waist. The softness at your middle rested comfortably over the fabric now, undeniable and impossible to hide. But somehow you never noticed it. I did, long before you allowed yourself to.
Next, it was the button-up shirt. The button strained harder each time you wore it, each one hanging on by a thread. Your stomach peeked through the gap at the bottom, no matter how often you tugged the fabric back in place. Somewhere along the way, you just stopped looking in mirrors. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
And then, one day, the subtlety was gone.
Now we're sitting across from each other at dinner. Your belly pressed against the edge of the table before the food even arrived. Then, halfway through the appetiser, the button on your new shorts gave way and landed somewhere across the restaurant. You shoot me a look you hope I mistake as pure anger. A look that implies I'm the one who made every excuse, ignored every warning, and ordered extra dessert.
Maybe I loved seeing your resolve melt faster than the cheese on your pizza.
Maybe I loved every time you loosened another button beneath the table and reached for your 'last piece'
But the funny thing is… It's unmistakable, beneath the embarrassment, beneath the anger, I can still see it. That little flicker in your eyes. You wanted this more than you'll ever admit.
And I loved watching it happen.
Eat up, piggy.
dailybridgerton
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