chapter 3 - the cheesecake

I cooked and baked, and by the time the snow was melting, you'd already packed on some weight. And no wonder. I didn't let you do a thing except lie about in bed or sit on the couch, reading, singing or talking with me. Soon, your breasts were bigger and rounder, and you had gotten a cute little tummy. You seemed to like how you were filling out, and you loved eating my delicious meals. And then, the winter came -- with more baking and cooking and spoiling, and you really blossomed. Your hips widened, your thighs thickened, and that tummy became a fulll-fledged potbelly.

All the while, I was enjoying playing host to you, and I hoped I could convince you to stay. I spoiled you rotten with my attentions, and you seemed to reciprocate with being a great companion in talking about literature, art, music and philosophy. I played guitar and we sang songs throughout the springtime.

I look down at the cheesecake, and I can't believe I've eaten more than half of it. Just kind of mindless eating. I feel my belly full of the soft sweet stuff, and I feel embarrassed that I have eaten so much. I resolve to bake you another one, plus a red-velvet chocolate cake. I gather the ingredients for both, and soon, I have them in the wood cookstove baking. As they bake, I figure I might as well eat some more cheesecake, so I do as I think about how we have adapted to our lives together.

It wasn't easy for you, being so far away from town, but you've come to love the life of remote ruggedness. I look out the window as I cut another slice of cheesecake, and see the lake far below, and the forests and hills stretching out as far as I can see. It's a beautiful place for us to live and be free.

You've changed me in many ways, I suppose. I've had to get used to having someone else here, and that took a while. And before I met you, I ate a lot of meat -- meat I caught fishing and hunting, and meat I raised, chickens and pigs. You convinced me not to eat meat any more. It was difficult giving up hunting and fishing, but I did because of you. I let the pigs go, so they could become free and wild, and now the cow and chickens provide us milk and eggs. We work together to churn butter, and make cheese, and yogurt and other dairy goodies like ice cream for milkshakes. And cream cheese for cheesecake.

I feel my stomach filling with cheesecake, and I look down to see just one thin sliver left. I've eaten a whole cheesecake? What a pig I've been! I think to myself that after last night's feast in bed, I should have been easily satisfied. But that is something else you have taught me -- how to enjoy life more, including hugging and kissing you, and enjoying food much more.

Maybe a bit too much, I groan. I feel the apron strings tighten around my middle. I look down at my side and notice the apron string cutting into - what? Softness? The beginning of a live handles, a soft bit of flab? That’s not possible. I stand quickly, nearly knocking over my chair. I look to see I have a small mound of adipose on each side. At first, I tell myself it’s just an illusion of the light. It’s got to be my oblique muscles. I gingerly touch my left side, expecting hard muscle. It’s soft and squishy, and it feels strangely good and familiar, like the fat you’ve piled on since living here.

This is not possible, I think. But then, I look at the last slice of cheesecake and realize it is. And I think how much more I’ve eaten lately. And how much less physical activity I’ve done since you’ve come into my life. I no longer go hunting or fishing. I spend more time with you, lying about, cooking, talking, reading.

Eating.

I swim less, rock climb less, hike less, chop wood less. I’ve heard of people gaining weight when they are newly in love, and I suppose that’s what’s happening.

Relationship weight.

Honeymoon rolls.

Love begets love handles.

It's fascinating and more than a bit scary all at the same time. Quite frankly, it makes me recklessly hungry.

Contemplating my small bit of thickening, I mindlessly start looking through the refrigerator for something else to eat .