It all started so innocently, my girlfriend offering me snacks, cooking meals I couldn't say no to, and insisting I never skip a meal. Coming from a life of being thin and sometimes even underweight, I wasn’t used to the constant push to eat past full. What I was used to was barely eating, never gaining even a pound, and always being the one in control. But with her, I let go….or maybe she made me let go, piece by piece. She made it feel like love, and I was too swept up in it to notice what was happening. I didn’t realize how quickly I was changing until clothes stopped fitting and buttoning up my favorite jeans became a painful chore. I tried to brush it off, frustrated and confused, but every time I noticed the changes, she'd drown me in affection, food, and attention, making it easy to forget. One day, I popped a button off a pair of pants and caught a glimpse of something unexpected in her eyes…excitement, even desire. In less than a year, I had unknowingly packed 70 pounds onto my once skinny frame. Everything felt…different…. I’d never had an extra ounce of fat on me before. Moving around got harder, I was always tired, and I’d become content just lounging, eating, and dozing off, but she loved it. I could see it in her eyes when I’d devour whatever she put in front of me, or when I’d finally outgrow a piece of clothing she bought me, or when I’d groan just trying to move after a meal. Looking back, it feels like I got fat on love. I know she didn’t do this to hurt me. She did it because she loved me (and still does), in her own intense, consuming way. Feeding me was how she showed it. Making me hers completely, soul, body and all.
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