Constant Consumption

Chapter 1

When I think back on my college days, there’s one person who stands out in every single memory: my best friend Loretta. Loretta with the infectious laugh and the wild hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. We were inseparable back then—two halves of a whole, joined at the hip, constantly sharing secrets, dreams, and ridiculous inside jokes that only made sense to us.

Our nights were almost always the same but never got old. We’d pull our old comforters down onto the floor of our dorm room, set up a little picnic of greasy pizza and cheap beer, and talk until the early hours of the morning. Music videos would play on the TV in the background, the latest hits from our favorite bands, and we’d speculate about the lives of the rock stars we idolized as if we knew them personally.

“Lorena, you know we’re gonna end up huge someday, right?” Loretta would say, nudging me as she took another swig of her beer. She’d pat her stomach, already full from the pizza, and I’d laugh, poking at my own, barely able to fit another bite.

“Oh, absolutely,” I’d reply, grinning. “We’ll be big enough to roll down the hallways by senior year!”

We didn’t worry about things like weight back then. We were too busy living, caught up in the excitement of being young and free, with nothing to hold us back. Those nights with Loretta were everything—moments I wish I could bottle up and revisit, just to hear her laugh and feel that easy, boundless sense of possibility again.

Once college ended, Loretta and I went our separate ways. She moved out west, chasing something—or maybe just running away from something. I never asked her which. I stayed closer to home, diving headfirst into the so-called adult life everyone talks about. These days, I’m all about discipline: a sensible diet, a regular exercise routine, and a bedtime that would probably make my college self laugh out loud.

Most mornings, I’m up before the sun, slipping on my running shoes and hitting the pavement before the world wakes up. I make green smoothies, I read self-help books, I make it to work on time every day, and I’m proud of the life I’ve built. It’s orderly, predictable, stable—all the things I used to mock but have somehow come to value over the years.

Every now and then though, I catch myself thinking back to those wild nights with Loretta. The feeling sneaks up on me, usually when I’m standing at the kitchen counter, sipping something bland and “healthy,” looking out the window as the city hums with life. I find myself longing for the chaos of those old nights, the freedom we felt, and how everything seemed possible. I miss Loretta and our wild, reckless nights—the good old days, as I like to think of them, when we didn’t think too hard about what was good for us, or worry so much about what the future might hold.


One day out of the blue, I got a message notification on my phone. I was in the middle of making my grocery list—something simple and efficient, like always—when I saw the name pop up on the screen. It was Loretta!

It stopped me in my tracks, and I actually needed to sit down for a minute. Just the sight of her name had me feeling a hundred feelings all at once: surprise, excitement, and an undeniable sense of curiosity. The message she’d sent me was poetically simple, as if no time at all had passed.



“Hey, Lorena! Long time no see! I’ll be in town for a few days next week. Wanna get together? Catch up on life?”

I was practically buzzing with excitement as I typed out my response. “Absolutely! Let me know when you’re free.” We exchanged a few more quick messages, settling on a day and time. The whole conversation was easy, effortless, just like it used to be.

That night, I went to bed feeling lighter than I had in ages. I felt like a part of my old self was waking up, stirring from a long sleep. As I lay there, waiting for sleep to come, my mind started to wander. I wondered what Loretta had been up to all these years. Where had she been? Who had she become? What does she look like now?

“It’s been so long,” I thought to myself, “I wonder if I’ll even recognize her.” As I drifted off to sleep, a smile playing at my lips, anticipation of seeing Loretta again had me slipping into dreams of the past.


A week later I was standing at the train station, scanning the crowd for any sign of Loretta. I’d arrived a little early, and now I was watching the steady stream of people with nervous anticipation. There was a light breeze in the air, and the sounds of the bustling station filled my ears as I held my breath, waiting for that familiar face to emerge.

Suddenly, I spotted a woman coming my way—a large woman, actually. She was easily one of the biggest people in the crowd, moving with a kind of easy confidence that made her stand out. She had a bag slung over one shoulder, and in her other hand she held a big sandwich, which she was eating with clear enthusiasm. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on me, they lit up with recognition. She smiled brightly and started waving in my direction.

Looking around, I was convinced she must be waving at someone standing behind me. As she drew closer, my heart began to race as her face became clearer with each step she took, and that’s when it hit me: “Oh my God,” I thought to myself, “Is that really Loretta?”



Indeed, it was Loretta. The same sassy girl I’d stayed up late with night after night, swapping stories and sharing dreams. The sparkle in her eye and the gleam in her smile was the same, but my goodness did the rest of her look different! Her body was so much larger, fuller than I remembered. Her hips were as wide as all outside, and her legs were as thick as tree trunks; her belly hung down low, stretching her blouse out so much that it looked like the seams could have busted wide open at any moment.

“Oh boy,” I thought to myself, “Loretta has gotten soooo FAT!”

“Lorena!” she called out as she came charging toward me. Before I could fully process what was happening, Loretta was upon me, throwing her arms around me and pulling me into a tight, almost bone-crushing hug. She laughed boisterously as she squeezed me so tightly that I could barely breathe. I found myself laughing along with her as I gasped for air. The feeling of her embrace was warm and familiar, like a soft and fluffy cloud that had been infused with a certain nostalgia that I hadn’t known I’d missed so much.

“Oh, Lorena! It’s so good to see you!” she said, her voice filled with excitement as she finally released me from her bear hug.

“Oh, Loretta,” I said, “it’s so wonderful to see you. You look – amazing!”

“Oh, stop!” she said modestly as she batted me playfully on my shoulder.

As sI stood there close to her, I could smell an unmistakable mix of strong food aromas. A melange of fried chicken, buttery popcorn, and something sweet like chocolate or frosting, maybe even a hint of barbecue sauce scents emanated from every part of her. It was as if she had tasted every food item offered along her journey, and the scents clung to her like a well-loved perfume.


We talked and laughed as we walked arm-in-arm toward the exit of the train station. Needless to say, I was flabbergasted by just how much bigger Loretta had become. Her face was rounder, her cheeks fuller, and her body seemed to fill the space around her in a way that was almost hypnotic. I didn’t dare say anything, of course, but I could hardly pull my eyes away.

“So,” I stammered somewhat nervously as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, still trying to wrap my head around Loretta’s new look, “I thought maybe we could go to lunch. There’s a really nice little bistro right around the corner here.

“Yes!” Loretta said enthusiastically. “Let’s eat! I’m famished!”

With that, she crammed the last bit of her giant sandwich into her mouth, and we were off.