Chapter 5 - what is truth?

Why is thinking so hard? Just trying to remember the past makes my head hurt. Now I'm sitting on my bed now, rubbing my belly. My thoughts are clouded with desire. My husband wouldn't like me thinking so much. He says I shouldn't. That I'm nothing but a fat bimbo and that's all I've ever been. Feeling my fat jiggle, it's hard not to believe him. It's hard to tell how much of memories are real. They get foggy. These memories of an old life feel so real, but how can they be? I'm a dumb piggy. How could someone like me ever be a doctor?

Stuart has told me about my past before. He told me I was a stripper when he met me. A high school dropout who had never been anything but a whore with no future. That he saved me from a life of sucking dick for petty cash and whisked me away like a regular Prince Charming to be his trophy wife. That as soon as he got me home, I became accustomed to this pampered lifestyle he provided me and spoiled myself into the overstuffed fatty that I am today. These are the first memories that come to my mind, but not the clearest. I remember dancing and doing sexual favors for strangers in exchange for money, but I everything else is hazy. Like these thoughts have been planted there to prevent me from thinking too much about my past and how I ended here as a bloated ditz of a housewife.

It's rarer that I get to access this level of memories. I'm normally content thinking that this was Stuart's house and that I was nothing more than his little pet. I don't know what made me think about all this today. I really don't like thinking though. Maybe I'll make myself a drink. That usually makes me think less. I drink a lot now. Stuart says I was always a lush who'd get sloppy drunk and hook up with guys every night, but the other version of me had never drank anything stuffed than tea. I'm sure I'm just being delusional. Stuart is my husband. Why would he lie to me?

Evidence of this old life were nowhere to be found. There aren't any pictures of me from before Stuart moved in, or I moved in with him? I don't remember which for sure. There are no pictures of me skinny. If there were, it would surely soothe my suspicions. A doctor and a stripper would look very different I imagine. Whichever one I looked more like would have been the true me. But this is the true me, isn't it? No matter what my past was, I know what my present is, right? I'm a greedy, lazy, sex-crazy fatty who needs daddy to take care of me. I'm not self-sufficient or independent and I never was. Right? And I'm happy. Aren't I?

I quickly shake away these thoughts of my past. I'm just being silly. It was ungrateful of me to be suspicious of Stuart. He's done so much for me and I have the nerve to question things with my dumb brain. If he says I was a stripper, than that's what I was. He was a smart psychic doctor (whatever that means) who did smart people things. And I was lucky enough to be his pet piggy of a bride. I'm not going to think these bad things anymore. Girls like me aren't supposed to think. We're supposed to eat, get fucked, and get fat; just like Stuart wants. When I'm finally too fat to move, Stuart says I'll never have to think or use this little brain of mine ever again. I can't wait!