chapter 2 - her voice continued

Luckily, I have always preferred loose clothes, so there was room to grow in what I brought with me. I even brought a pair of pants that were a size 12, even though I was a size 8 when I left. I had thought that I might gain a few pounds and, as I said, I preferred loose clothes. Buying any new clothes while I was traveling was not in my budget, and the money I had was focused on my culinary expedition. It was during the last three weeks that getting dressed started to become a challenge. The last week was very difficult since I was down to only the one pair of pants that I could even consider putting on. Nothing had really fit for a while, but by then it had simply becoming impossible to pour myself into any of my outfits, except those pants. Even tricks like lying down on the bed to get my pants buttoned weren’t working well.

By the last day, even the one pair of pants proved difficult to get into, let alone fasten. After struggling while lying down, sucking in and pulling hard, I had finally gotten the button through the hole and the zipper up, but, as I got ready to leave for the airport, leaning to pick up my bags, the button on my pants gave its last gasp. I had nothing else to wear and so was forced to cobble together a couple of safety pins to hold my pants closed. This was effective since it actually gave my pants a couple of extra inches in the waist. Still, they felt painted on and the waist cut deep into my gut. I was no longer able to stuff the extra flesh down in my pants and had to find that place under the bulge of my belly where my pants had a chance. I tried to pick a shirt that would hang down to conceal the roll that puffed out over the top of my pants, but my largest ”T” kept riding up on my gut. There was nothing else I could do except keep pulling it down.

Now, with the experience coming to the end, I had to plan on re-entry to the real world. Most specifically, I needed to prepare myself for the readjustment of having something else to do besides traveling to eat. I was starting to worry about how Eric would react to my changed body, but there was not much I could do about that now. It was time to get back to New York.

A quick reminder of the extra weight was when I boarded the plane. I could also tell that the gain was truly significant when I was buckling my seat belt. I don’t think I had ever thought about how small the seats on planes were. It felt like the seats had shrunk, but I knew that it was me that had changed. I found myself thinking that I was glad that I still needed to tighten the belt, and wondering how much people have to eat to need an extension belt.

Realizing how quickly I was expanding during the last week - the image of dough proofing in a warm kitchen crossed my mind, I figured that one more week and maybe I wouldn’t fit in the seat. Hell, maybe one more week and the plane wouldn’t have been able to lift off. I knew that I was exaggerating, but everything is relative. Strapped in and being propelled towards New York and Eric, I felt like everything was beyond my control and whatever was going to happen was going to happen. There was nothing that I could do about it then.

My thought that it would be a good idea not to eat on the plane lasted all of the way until they started serving dinner. By then, in what had become an unusual three hours without a meal, I was starving. Watching how quickly I cleaned my tray, the nice old lady sitting next to me offered me her entree. She explained that she didn’t like to eat while she was traveling. That reminded me that I, too, had never eaten a meal on a plane before. I realized that all was lost, or maybe gained when I gladly accepted her offer and polished off her dinner as well.

After the plane landed, I made my way to where we had to go through customs. As I entered the hall, I saw Eric and gave him my biggest smile. I thought maybe, at that distance, a big smile would keep his attention above the shoulders. I felt myself breaking into an anxiety sweat. What if he reacted really badly to my burgeoning body? Suddenly, I started feeling wedged in my ridiculously tight clothes. Why hadn’t I broken down and bought something that concealed all of this undulating flesh? I tried to pull my shirt down. I tried to hold my gut in. I tried to do something to control the way that my body seemed to be moving on its own. I was a dancer. I was thin. What the hell had I done to my body?

When I finally got to Eric, I was giving my smile everything that I could. “Look up here, Eric. Keep your eyes up here. Don’t look down, or if you do, stop at my tits.” I was shouting in my brain. It didn’t work. Eric couldn’t take his eyes off my belly. He seemed transfixed. But he also seemed really glad to see me and when he took me in his arms, it was not with revulsion. If anything, he seemed to be squeezing me tighter than ever before. Or maybe it was just that hugging me now required more of an effort.

Although I figured it was the last thing in the world that I should be thinking about, as we made our way to the car, I realized that I was starving again. Eric was so wonderful that he read my mind and suggested as soon we were leaving that we go for dinner. I rationalized that, in reality, my consumption had plummeted sharply on this day of travel. In the time that it had taken me the day before to finish five of six meals, I had only had one breakfast and a meal on the plane. Well, two meals, but they were very small compared to what I had become accustomed to. Of course, I was starving, who wouldn’t be. Of course, we should go for dinner. And of course, this extra weight was going to simply fall off of me, now that I was no longer learning by example. I would start taking some dance classes. I would be back to my former form in no time. But first, dinner. I was starving.