how beautiful you are.
cw: negative body image, low self-esteem, eating habits, depressive mood, plus!size reader, happy ending
a/n: author is plus!size. i wanted to write about something that i personally go through on a loop all the time. please refrain from reading if topics like this upset or trigger you. i’m having a rough time mentally with my own body, so i just wanted to write something about it and get my thoughts out. thank you.
it's gotten bad recently.
the thoughts are always there, always have been since you started middle school. always in the back of your mind, subconsciously. some days are better than others, and you've learned to embrace them at times, especially the bad ones.
it’s one of those bad times.
you’re sitting on the floor of your guys’s bedroom in the complete darkness, knees up to your chest, sitting back against the bed. rafe won’t be home for at least another hour or so, giving you time to wipe your tears and ‘get on with it’ as your mother would say.
the constant thoughts of being too big and waiting for the day rafe laughs in your face and telling you this entire relationship was only a joke because he felt bad for you because you were the only one in your friend group who wasn’t dating anyone at the time; that he’s not actually attracted to someone who could be so big.
the thoughts have gotten deafening the last few days, suppressing your appetite, covering yourself in head to toe in rafe’s shirts and sweatshirts, your baggiest sweatpants, even swaddling yourself in every blanket in the house.
you’ve always been a bigger girl. always being the one who was a few sizes bigger than the rest of your friends in middle school, occasionally being able to find your size in every shopping mall store your friends wanted to go to because ‘the new spring crop tops just dropped and omggggg I wanna go!’
you tried here and there to diet, exercise, and even take medications, each lasting about a month or so before you got frustrated, seeing one or two numbers slip off the scale, if any at all.
you learned to love yourself throughout the years, but every so often, the thoughts come back even stronger than they did before.
like now.
you haven’t bothered to move from your spot since rafe left to go back to work after his lunch. you made him his favorite meal, spaghetti bolognese and garlic bread with a side salad. except, you had only made enough for one person. and rafe questioned it.
‘you’re not eating?’ he said with a confused look on his face. he swallowed the last bit of his pasta and looked over at you by the sink washing the dishes.
you weren’t facing him, so he couldn’t see the flush on your cheeks and the way you frowned. you shook your head and scrubbed the pot covered in sauce.
‘uh no. i — uh, had a big breakfast. too many cups of coffee too,’ you said softly. yeah okay.
‘i might have something after you leave. i still have a lot to do around the house.’ you turn a bit and look at him over your shoulder, giving him a warm smile before turning your focus back to the dishes.
you hear him give a hum behind you, as well as his footsteps coming closer. he reaches around you and puts his dishes in the sink before giving you a few kisses to the top of your head.
‘alright, baby,’ he says with a mouthful of food. ‘i should be home around sixish. make whatever you want tonight. ‘s your choice.’ he turns you around gently, you dropping the rag and the plate in the soapy water. he gives a close lipped smile and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, then pats your cheek gently.
you return the smile and nod just once. he turns to leave with an ‘i love you,’ and walks out the garage door.
he didn’t seem to think anything of it and you let out a sigh of relief at the memory. the amount of stress and frustration it would take to speak your thoughts and feelings about your thoughts and feelings of your own body would be a nightmare. after you ended up finishing the dishes, you had made your way upstairs and plopped onto the ground in your shared bedroom, the hole in your stomach growing in guilt and shame as hours stretched on.
you look at the bedside table clock and see the blaring red numbers.
5:45 PM
you get up from the ground and huff, wiping your eyes which are probably puffy and fucked, eyes probably bloodshot and double fucked, but what can you do in all of fifteen minutes before your lover comes home? it’s fine, it’s whatever. get on with it.
you quickly turn on the lamp on the bedside table and make your way downstairs.
you sniff, nose stuffed with snot from crying all afternoon. your mind runs with simple meal recipes that you can make quickly and ones that you’re comfortable with tonight.
after opening the fridge, you decide on a chicken and rice dish with some left over salad from the lunch you made for rafe, as well as sautéed veggies (you had a history with the kitchen, rafe doesn’t complain; it’s a double sided coin.)
as you move your way through the kitchen, pans searing and rice cooker steaming, you hear the door leading to the garage open and shut softly. rafe puts his things in the mudroom and makes his way over to you immediately.
“smells good.” he says giving you a hug from behind. you smile and hum.
you ask about his day, he responds. ‘nothing new, still working on that deal with that one company. they’re still trying to negotiate pricing, but we’re at our wits end. y’remember me telling you, right? well…’ he trails on and you listen contently.
“how about you? what’d you do today?” he asks leaning against the counter. you hesitate before answering, trying to come up with anything besides saying, ‘oh well, yknow, cried like a baby because I’m basically five hundred sizes bigger than the average woman my age. highlight of my day honestly!’
you shake your head at your rambling thoughts. “oh you know, just… did the dishes and had an easy day. just hung out in the room.” you shrug. you plate both of your food and make your way to the table, setting the plates down and sitting.
rafe is still in the same spot at the counter and he waits a few seconds before hanging his head a bit and moving to sit at the table. he doesn’t say anything though.
there’s a sense of tension in the air from your hesitant answers to him from the past couple of days — nearing a week — but especially today. you try your best to make some kind of conversation because you’re two seconds away from literally getting up and locking yourself in the bathroom. you also pray he doesn’t notice the difference in amounts of food on your plates. all it takes is one movement of his eyes over yours, or at the plates, and you’ll lose it.
so you pick up your fork and bring a chunk of chicken to your mouth. your eyes don’t look over at him once. that’s when it all comes to a head.
“did you eat before i got home?” he breaks the silence. he puts his fork in his mouth slowly, giving you his undivided attention.
you struggle to swallow the measly piece of meat in your mouth. you give a half-hearted chuckle, still not meeting his eyes. “uh, yeah. just had half a sandwich. wanted to sit with you and have a few bites though.”
your appetite was now completely gone, the subject of the conversation waning any sort of hunger that you had today. “i’m just gonna run to the bathroom.” you say.
you walk out of the kitchen casually as if you’re not on the brink of tears once again, and as soon as you’re out of sight, you make your way quickly up the stairs to your bathroom and lock the door, sliding down and sitting on the floor.
you bring your knees up to your chest and let the tears fall. nothing even happened, he just tried to make conversation and you fucking lost it. get on with it. but you knew, you knew that if anything like that was mentioned, you’d break down and you tried to not.
even earlier today he said something, so he obviously sees it. maybe he’s happy you’re not eating in front of him and just wants confirmation that you are. like earlier today when he was home, and just now. maybe he doesn’t want to see you get any bigger. out of sight, out of mind.
you stand up suddenly and turn on the lights. you look a wreck. face flushed, tear streaks, eyes puffy. you turn to your side and lift up your sweatshirt. your heart breaks and fresh tears roll down. you rub a hand up and down your stomach, turning at different angles, pinching at different areas, covering the faded and pale stretch marks. wishing you could pinch so hard, it all comes off so you can throw it in the trash or flush it down the toilet and never to be seen again.
you turn to face yourself in the mirror and you move your arms to hug yourself, feeling small and wanting to hide. the tears haven’t stopped, and you don’t know if they will. you can’t go back downstairs looking like a mess. get on with it. but you can’t. so you don’t move.
you flinch at the sound of knocking at the door.
“hey, you okay?” rafe’s voice comes through the door. you squeeze your eyes shut and wipe the free falling tears.
“uh — y-yeah! give me a sec. my stomach hurts.” your voice trembles. you begin to panic, you start breathing heavier and your body starts to shake.
“here, unlock the door. let me help.” he replies, jigging the door knob. you shake your head furiously.
“no, no. i swear, i’m fine. just — just give me a sec.” you say nervously, voice breaking on the last word. but you don’t go to move. you just stare at yourself, your biggest nightmare coming true. he can’t see you like this. he’s gonna think you’re a fucking wacko, crying over something so obvious, anyone could see it.
maybe he’s smiling on the other side of the door. maybe he’s knows exactly what’s going on and he’s happy that you’re finally seeing what he’s seen all along.
you don’t notice the door unlocking, him finding the spare key in the bedside table. you flinch and turn towards him, your arms immediately dropping down to your sides. you look at his face. it’s full of concern.
“hey, — what. woah, whats wrong? are you okay? why are you crying, baby?” he makes his way towards you with his hands reaching out slowly like you’re a stray animal, not wanting to scare you.
you shake your head and step away from him. he can’t touch you because he’ll feel. you don’t want him to feel it all because that will break you the most if he gets repulsed by touching you.
“woah, woah. hey. hey. look at me, what’s wrong?” his hands grasp your face, hands on both of your cheeks and making you look at him. and you break. it all comes out.
you drop to your knees with a strangled cry and he follows you. your head drops to rest against his throat, your arms wrapping around your knees, trying to make you take up less space than you ever have in your life. and you just cry. sobs leave your throat, tears streaming, snot dripping. if he didn’t think you were ugly then, this is definitely the icing on the cake.
he wraps his arms around you and his chin rests on top of your head. his heart is racing, he doesn’t know what’s going on and he doesn’t know how to voice his concerns. so he just sits and lets you cry.
“i hate myself,” you say through gasping sobs. it hurts to say out loud, but you know he’s not going to leave your side after seeing you fall apart. there’s no way. “i — i fucking hate myself.”
he moves a bit so that your head is resting against one of his biceps, almost like he’s holding a baby; you sitting sort of horizontal, knees still pulled up to your chest, but now you’re looking up at him a bit.
his eyes are roaming all over your face, eyebrows furrowed, his chest moving up and down faster than normal. he doesn’t speak and lets you continue.
“i’ve never told you because i didn’t w-want you to know. i didn’t want to be looked at like a fragile fucking thing where you have to walk on eggshells around me or overcompensate and throw around extra fucking compliments when they aren’t true in the first place to ignore the original problem.” you swallow.
“i hate the way i look, i hate h-how my clothes fit on my body, i hate the way that everybody else can see how i look and know that they’re thinking the exact same thoughts that i am about myself and i-” you cut yourself off to take a breath. the tears haven’t stopped. you’re sure that after tonight, you won’t have any left to cry.
“i just hate. hate that these thoughts won’t go away. they haven’t for years. it’s all i’ve ever known. i beat myself up everyday because i — i know that at some point. you’re going to call it quits and it’ll be because of me. because i — i’m not her. i’m not the one girl who’s good enough to fucking stand next to you. everyone already looks at us like — like you’re doing me a favor because of how i look and it’s just a matter of time that it comes true.”
rafe swallows. you focus through your blurry eyes and see he has a pair of his own, tears threatening to fall. but he still doesn’t say a word.
“i hate my body,” you whisper brokenly. “i have since middle school. i’ve always been the bigger girl out of my friends and i still am. it gets to a point where,” you pause.
“where any time they want to go shopping or — or to the pool or the beach or just going out for a girls night, i cancel last minute or i sit under the umbrellas because i don’t want people to see me. i want to disappear and pretend that i don’t exist.”
you’re so tired. you stop talking because if you don’t, you’ll keep repeating yourself over and over until you’re a broken record. you’re surprised he’s stayed this long, hasn’t laughed or rolled his eyes, hasn’t dropped you completely and walked out of the house.
it’s silent for a few minutes. tears are still streaming down your face, but you’ve calmed for the most part. you’re staring off into space until you feel him move beneath you. he takes his hands and places them on your cheeks again and makes you look at him once more.
“oh, how beautiful you are.” he whispers so softly, you might’ve imagined it. his thumbs come to rub under your eyes, wiping away the never ending tears.
your heart leaps at his words. they’re kind. it’s a happy feeling.
“you have your own reasons for not telling me, and that’s okay. i’m not upset. this changes absolutely nothing. nothing about you to me. i’m upset because you’re hurting.” he continues. his own tears have fallen.
your lip quivers and you swallow the sob that threatens its way out of your mouth.
“i know… that. nothing i can say will fix it completely. that they’re always going to be in the back of your mind,” he sniffs. he tightens his hands on your cheeks, almost like a silent i’ve got you.
“but there won’t be a day that passes where i won’t continue to worship the damn ground you walk on. you. are the most ethereal thing i have ever seen in my entire life.” he says.
“you — you are so beautiful. i love every square centimeter of your body. i cannot fathom a time where i don’t fall in love with you more every damn morning that i wake up. there is not a single thing wrong with you in my eyes.”
“every time i look at you, my head goes rampant. every single muscle in my body wants to wrap around you. like it wants to intertwine our bodies into one.”
he removes his hands from you and wraps them back around you, resting the side of his head on top of yours. he begins to sway the both of you gently.
“you captivate me in ways no other soul ever will. you are it for me. i am so in love with you, my entire existence depends on yours. and to me, you are truly the most bewitching woman i have known to love. all of you. every goddamn piece of you.” he finishes. he moves his head and kisses every inch of your face that he can reach at this angle.
you give a small giggle, eyes watery from his words. it made your heart flutter and your stomach erupt in butterflies. it’s the kind of words you read in fairytales or see in movies. and it was said to you.
the dinner gone cold, the kitchen still a mess, you both move to the bed with rafe still professing his love for your beauty. you lay on the bed as he undresses you slowly, kissing every part of your body you try to hide from him or flinch away from when he runs his hands over it.
and he goes into detail about what he loves so much about that part of your body. he runs his fingers over each stretch mark, caressing and filling them with love.
that’s how the night ends — rafe worshipping your battered body, battered with hate and disgust from your brain. gentle touches, soft kisses, and hugs full of warmth.
some days can be mind numbing, but you’re speechless to have someone like him to catch you when you fall deep.