i love the idea of gaining weight because of a partner that loves to wine and dine me
date nights at restaurants become a weekly habit, eating a solid three course meal that leads me to nurse a bloated, bulging stomach each time we return home - every time vowing to never lay eyes on the dessert menu again
but somewhere along the line it becomes easier, almost thoughtless, to finish an entire meal with an uncomfortable fullness. stealing bites of your meals out of food envy becomes almost second nature. in fact, you haven't finished your cheesecake, let me have a bite! and could we get ice cream on the way home? my chocolate cake was a little rich, I need something cold and smooth to cut through the sweetness
and through all of this, the weight creeps up slowly. after all, a once or twice a week blow out isn't enough to make me fat, surely? I eat normally enough during the week to allow for a bit of date night fun
until one day before our ritual date night, i ask for your help to do a zipper up on my favourite black dress. of course it still zips, though i notice with each step i take it feels as though the seams are straining, groaning. sitting down at the table, the bodycon dress that once fit perfectly now rides up on my thighs - i'm afraid to stand up too quickly in case i give the restaurant a free show.
"don't worry about it, my love" you say to me. "you look fine. have a glass of wine".
I reach towards your side of the table for the ice bucket holding our bottle of cabernet sauvignon. leaning forward, i feel my belly begin to pool in my lap - a sensation i've never noticed before - has that always happened? my arms also feel constricted by the seams, as though they too have suddenly become aware of their girth
the zipper groans before i can even get a hold of the bottle, warning me of what's to come. as i grasp the bottle, there's a tear - and suddenly it feels as though my clothes feel much better. I know what has just happened, and am now mortified by the sound of my clothes making more room for myself before dinner has even begun.
you walk around to the back of my chair and witness what was left of the zipper, now completely torn on one side of the dress.
"your dress has ripped, but don't worry, we can cover you up with my coat on the way out".
I go to get up from my seat. "wait, what are you doing!?" you say. "I didn't mean now! everyone will see you, and our food isn't even here yet!"
I look at you, puzzled by what you expect me to do - especially since you'd just offered me your coat.
"sit down, my love. enjoy your meal, enjoy your wine. if you stay sitting, no one can see that you've torn your dress. this might have been the first time its happened, but it won't be the last... now what did you want for dessert?"
