Chapter 2

The dinky, old-fashioned alarm clock on the windowsill erupted with an abrupt and abrasive rendition of "The Final Countdown.” Andrea buried her face in her pillow, wrestling to silence the shrill, metallic symphony assaulting her eardrums. Her arm stretched out, blindly fumbling for the power button, until her fingers made contact with the smooth, cool glass surface of her phone. A simple press of the button, and silence enveloped the room.

A few short moments later, the sound of tires screeching and a distant police siren penetrated the calm air, drifting through the half-open window. Andrea pried open an eyelid and squinted at her phone. The crimson glow of the digital display announced it was 5:45 a.m., and she had overslept.

Andrea threw off the duvet, hurled herself out of bed, and dashed to the bathroom, cursing her roommate, Adam, continentally for not waking her up, like he always did.

The cool tiles brought her back to her senses as she brushed her teeth, her mind settling on the day's schedule. First, she would visit the gym before heading to her morning classes.

She had noticed some slight alterations in her physique recently—she seemed to be developing a softer, curvier silhouette. Andrea felt both excited and anxious about it, and she hoped that the gym would help her better understand and manage her concerns.

Andrea often visited the gym; for her, exercise represented an inescapable routine that she used to release energy, soothe her spirit, and manage her physical anxieties. This morning, she donned her favorite sportswear: a black tank top and black shorts with the gym's logo tastefully embroidered on the leg.

But as Andrea passed by Adam, who was sipping his coffee on the couch, she noticed something unsettling.

Adam's gaze shifted from the morning news on TV to Andrea, his mug halted mid-air. His eyebrows danced, forming a crease in the middle of his forehead, and he slowly lowered the mug back to the coffee table.

"Uh, Andrea, you look... different today." His tone feigned nonchalance, but his words sliced the air, sharp and unavoidable.

Andrea glanced down, a flicker of concern kindling in her chest. The fabric stretched taut across her belly, revealing a subtle bulge that resembled the beginnings of a beer belly. A knot of unease tightened in her stomach. How had she missed that?

"Is everything alright?" Adam asked, with concern in his voice.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped together. "Did you change your diet recently? Maybe you should cut back on those protein shakes." He flashed her a smile that felt more like a lifeline flung towards a drowning person.

But Andrea was no damsel in distress, and she didn't require his help to stay afloat. "I think I'm good, really. The past couple of days have been busy, so I might have indulged more than I should have." She waved away his concern, attempting to convince herself as well.

"It's probably just bloating, a woman's faithful companion after all." She forced a chuckle, though it didn't muster quite the right amount of cheer.

"Alright, but if you need anything, let me know." He paused and hesitated for a moment, as if mulling over the question he yearned to ask, but decided against it.

Andrea snatched her gym bag and car keys, letting herself out the door.

Her running shoes thumped against the persistently damp stairs that led to the apartment building's parking lot. The chilly morning air bit at her exposed skin, but it was a welcome contrast to the growing warmth radiating from her body.

Upon entering the gym, Andrea's eyes narrowed as she assessed the state-of-the-art equipment that lined the expansive space. The walls adorned motivational quotes, each one promising untold reserves of energy and strength hidden within her should she choose to unlock them.

These proverbs had always been enough to bolster Andrea’s sagging spirit, but today, something felt amiss. She wandered through the bustling crowd, heading towards her favorite treadmill, unable to rid herself of Adam’s puzzled gaze.

At the treadmill, Andrea tossed her gym bag on the floor, swiping her membership card through the reader. A muted beep signaled her entry, and she adjusted the settings. Her fingers hesitated above the start button, and for the first time in her gym-going history, uncertainty pooled in her chest.

Familiar faces populated the sea of machines around her: the weight-lifting hulk in the corner, the exhausted newcomer to the left, and the ever-chatty elliptical twins to her right. Talking about celebrity gossip, fitness fads, and everything else under the sun, they were a constant presence in this space. A slice of familiarity to ground her in moments of confusion.

Andrea's fingers hovered above the button, a single push dictating the course of the next hour.

She drew a deep breath and tapped the start button. The treadmill began to hum, gently urging her relieve the day's anxieties.

As Andrea settled into her routine, she watched her reflection in the gym's floor-to-ceiling windows. She noticed her softer curves jostling gently in response to each footfall. Images of her friend's kind yet concealed smile hovered at the back of her mind, replaying on an endless loop.

*****

An hour passed by quickly.

As the treadmill slowed, a thin film of sweat glimmered on Andrea's brow, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She wrestled away her focus from the nagging suspicion in her mind. The rhythmic pounding of her feet had granted her reprieve from the incessant pondering, offering solace in exertion rather than confrontation.

Andrea hastily packed her belongings and made her way to the locker rooms.

She was eager to escape the constant reminders of her newfound curves that lurked on every reflective surface, waiting to unnerve her.

During her shower, she let her thoughts meander. Considering the stringent regimen she stubbornly maintained, alterations in physique seemed improbable, if not entirely impossible. Even though she couldn’t entirely dismiss her buddy Adam’s recommendation of modifying her food intake, she knew she otherwise did everything in her power to preserve her fit figure.

The gym's locker room buzzed with an authentic camaraderie.

Women of all shapes and sizes squeezed past each other as they juggled shampoo bottles, hairdryers, and gym bags. Sweaty workout attire dangled from limp limbs, while damp hair clung to necks and shoulders.

Andrea pushed through the door, quickening her pace as she made her way to her locker, desperate to don fresh clothing and wash away the guilt-inducing sense of indulgence.

As she swapped the sweaty sports bra and shorts for a loose-fitting sundress and cardigan, Andrea's thoughts meandered toward her roommate–Adam, the man who had unknowingly ignited the spark of self-doubt and insecurity.

She couldn't recall when their friendship had shifted from simple roommates to confidants. They had met during the chaotic initial weeks of her first semester.

Andrea had struggled with the college's confusing layout and had found herself weeping in a dimly lit hallway, a call to her parents well on its way.

Adam had stumbled upon her in that dire moment. He was a confident kid from that town looking to escape his parents’ house, kindly offering his aid, his eyes reflecting empathy rather than judgment. Over time, he'd evolved into an irreplaceable facet of her life, a characteristic many of her prior friendships had lacked.

Secrets and confessions spilled out between them like water through a sieve as they navigated the tumultuous landscape of their freshman year. The rest was history. Andrea swallowed back the torrent of emotions as she thought of her dear friend, who had, in a single glance, implanted a thorn that now threatened to shatter the foundation of their trust.

Stepping out of the locker room, Andrea took in a deep, steadying breath, bracing herself to face the coming obstacles. But in doing so, she found herself overcome by a fresh wave of unease.

Adam shouldn't have been there. Yet, here he was with a bag of her favorite cookies, a teddy bear, and a French vanilla latte. “I was insensitive this morning,” he began. “You just caught me by surprise and you know- guy + boobs, even from his best friend/roommate, = idiot.” He said in his typical good fashion humor. What better way to apologize than through the language of her heart: chocolate, coffee, and animal-shaped stuffed toys. Andrea could feel her frustration begin to melt into a gooey pool of forgiveness, even as her mind screamed to maintain perspective.

But it was difficult to keep ahold of such tension in the wake of Adam's endearing apology. He extended his arms, the stuffed toy in his right hand, a bag of chocolate-chip cookies grinning maliciously from their white, paper package in his left.

Adam's eyes pleaded for forgiveness, his eyebrows dancing as they arched comically in the universal language of apology. "Forgive me?" they seemed to implore.

Andrea's heart warmed, the residual tension of earlier in the day beginning to dissipate. "You’re an idiot all the time, boobs or no boobs. But, with that being said… You're going to have to work harder than that to get rid of me." An amused grin stretched across Andrea's face. “Especially if you apologize with chocolate and stuffed animals.”

The lines of anxiety across his face eased, his shoulders slumping in relief. A genuine smile spread across his lips, his winning charm once again resonating in his expression. In that moment, their camaraderie and bond were profoundly evident, their friendship encapsulated in a single shared tableau.

In the weeks to come, Andrea continued to grapple with her newfound shape. Each luggage of produce at the grocery store was used less, instead replaced with a hearty meal shared with Adam, served to further the needle on the scale and the growth of the monster that was becoming her belly.

Andrea's apprehension increased as she nourished this expansion with trans fats, glass after glass of wine, chocolate truffles bought by Adam in his endeavors to spoil her and encourage this “pristine physique” as he called it.

Sweets and savory treats didn’t stop there. Adam started to bring home collections of decadent, rich desserts every other day. Some large, main dishes too—like cheesy Italian from her favorite place, Abruzzi’s. The aroma would linger for hours, irresistible and daunting, echoing the temptation of her future self.

It all became so overwhelming that she had to eat it just to rid the house of the tempting smells. As she dug into the third serving of tiramisu that week, her thoughts became hazy and subdued, giving in to the numbing satisfaction of her indulgence.

Andrea's days melded into one another, each identical to the last. Wake up, eat, gym, eat, study, eat, sleep. Repeat.

But even with her rigorous exercise schedule, Andrea's body continued to evolve, her jeans refusing to button and shirts straining over her expanding frame. Her former curves escalated to volumes she had never seen before.

The lush, roundedness of her stomach bulged with a voracity that grew tirelessly, like a relentless creature craving sustenance. The appetite she had unleashed on herself was insatiable. Her hunger roared fiercely as she dashed to feed the insurgent who was taking over her being.