chapter 3

A look of disgust angled sharply across Stephanie's flawless complexion as she took in the aftermath of another gluttonous stuffing session by her husband. Taco bell. Kentucky Fried Chicken. Wendy's. Eric seemed to be sampling the cuisines of every fast food establishment in a two mile radius of their home. That psychiatrist was supposed to be getting this under control, not encouraging this behavior, Stephanie lamented. Quite the opposite; since Eric had met with Dr. Thrace, his appetite had kicked into overdrive. Stephanie was certain Eric had gained more weight, but it was difficult to say how much, as Eric now wore such loose fitting clothing. Or loose fitting for the moment, at least...

Glancing towards her husband, Stephanie was met with a familiar sight. Eric was sprawled across their sectional sofa, his legs kicked up wearing a recently purchased pair of extra large sweats, with an overflowing bowl of sour cream and cheddar potato chips seated on his lap. Stephanie correctly postulated that Eric's attire was intended to conceal his weight gain, but she hadn't yet pieced together that the ensemble was becoming an outfit of necessity. The suits Eric dawned for work, the jeans he wore for casual wear, all were becoming untenably snug as Eric's body expanded outwards. Were he to stuff himself in anything but the sweats, there was no guarantee his clothes' buttons could survive the ordeal. Each additional snack held the potential of the straw to the camel's back, as the saying goes, sending doughy mounds of flesh spilling in all directions.

Eventually, once Eric's attention deviated from stuffing his face, he caught his wife's stare. Unlike Eric's sloppy yet comfy attire, Stephanie was clad in a red dress with a floral pattern and complimentary flats. Trying not to think of how much the designer dress translated to on their credit card statement, Eric instead wondered as to the dresses' intended occasion.

"You look nice, sweetheart," Eric commented. "New dress?"

"Yeah, I went shopping earlier this week," Stephanie affirmed.

"Great eye, as always," Eric complimented. Eric laughed and gestured to his overly sized clothes, "I know I look like shit in these, but if you give me a few minutes to clean up, I could take you out tonight. Maybe we could grab dinner at that new restaurant down by the pier..."

"Dinner?!? How can you possibly still be hungry after all you've been eating?" Eric's suggestion had been made innocently enough, but referencing food only fanned the embers of Stephanie's simmering consternation.

Eric could only smile sheepishly at Stephanie's exacerbation. "Well, you know... doctor's orders, right?" That justification hadn't worked the first time and it certainly wasn't gaining traction on this occasion.

"Thanks, but no. We're having a girl's night. Maybe some other time."

"Yeah...some other time," Eric repeated, deflated by the apprehension he perceived from his spouse.

Stephanie could see disappointment in her husband's eyes. She wanted to consul him, but feared that condoning Eric's indulgences and fetish would serve only to add her seal of approval to a practice and preference she inherently decried. Stephanie, like so many in our society more generally, instinctively feared what she didn't understand.

Following a drawn silence that seemed to permeate the room, Stephanie excused herself for the evening. "I need to get going."

So many words teetered on the tip of Eric's tongue. He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to tell her that things would be alright. That they'd sort all of this out. Yet whenever these words bubbled close to the surface, the sentiment invariably seemed to fizzle. As Stephanie turned to walk out the door, all Eric could manage was a generic "have fun," with, at best, a half-hearted smile.

Left alone with his thoughts and insecurities, Eric quickly sought a distraction and found the large bowl of potato chips all too happy to oblige. Chowing down, Eric could not help but laugh out loud at how ridiculous he looked. There he was, consoling himself with junk food, wearing extra large sweat pants, alone on a Saturday night! Eric felt isolated and a bit melancholic, but he had always been the sort who could find humor in any situation, positive or negative.

Unexpectedly, there came a knock on the door.

Had Stephanie forgotten something? Eric had heard her back her car out of the driveway. Stephanie must have had her keys, should she have needed to return inside. Straining forward, Eric rose from the couch and started towards the door. Eric was more chubby, as opposed to fat, but he still perceived the difference in performing even the most mundane physical activities. Unlatching the dead bolt and pulling the door back, Eric instantly caught the smell of...pizza?

"Delivery for Eric," a pimply boy in his late teens or early twenties advised.

"I didn't order a pizza," Eric responded in confusion.

"Two pizzas, Sir. Along with an order of cheesy bread sticks and a 2 liter soda," the delivery boy corrected.

"Singular or plural, I still didn't buy them," Eric retorted, perplexed at who had bought these pizzas for him and why.

"They were paid for when they were ordered, Sir. It's already been taken care of. The note I have on the order, reads 'Merry Christmas, big guy ;)'"

Eric then confirmed the address and could only shrug. It still didn't add up. All of that fattening food hardly seemed like something Stephanie would order. Yet if it wasn't his wife, than who?

Before Eric could even begin to connect the dots, the delivery boy interjected, "Could I have your initials here please, Sir."

"Uhhh...yeah, sure."

Pulling out a pen and a few dollars in cash for a tip, Eric initialed his receipt and sent the delivery boy on his way. To say Eric was suspicious and hesitant to chow down on his "Christmas gift," was an understatement. Eric had no idea who had ordered it, or their intentions. Eric's mouth watered as he took in the aroma, but he maintained his resolve and left the pizzas untouched in the kitchen.