I Was a Teenage Glutton

Chapter 1

Tonia hadn’t meant to gain weight—she swore that she hadn’t. When she’d left home for college, her mother had helped her pack a tidy suitcase filled with sensible skirts, crisp blouses, and a pair of sturdy saddle shoes. Her father had patted her on the shoulder, his grip firm and proud, and told her to “study hard, but don’t forget to have a little fun.”

A little fun. That’s all it was supposed to be, but fun had a way of snowballing into something else altogether.

The trouble started in the cafeteria. There, trays of food gleamed under the heat lamps like trophies, waiting to be claimed. Tonia had never seen so much food in one place. Steaming heaps of mashed potatoes, rows of baked macaroni, and thick slabs of meatloaf drenched in rich brown gravy.

Then there were the desserts—trays and trays full of them—jiggling with bright gelatin, slathered in frosting, and piled high with whipped cream. She told herself to be careful, to fill only half her tray. As she moved down the line, however, her restraint withered. She ended up with a towering tray and the kind of guilt that burned a hole in her chest.Tonia spent day after day in the dimly lit cafeteria, her tray overflowing with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and a wobbling slab of cherry gelatin. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly pallor over everything. The air was thick with the mingling scents of mystery meat, butter-soaked rolls, and hot grease.

She took a bite. Then another. The crunch of the chicken skin was like music to her ears. She didn’t even notice her free hand reaching for a gravy-soaked forkful of potatoes until it was already halfway to her lips. Tonia’s belly pressed against the waistband of her skirt, a tightness that whispered to her, Enough. But her appetite roared back, More.

She wasn’t always like this. Back in high school, she’d been the picture of teen normalcy. She played volleyball, had a steady boyfriend, and spent her weekends at the malt shop, sipping sodas with her friends. She was never a waif, but she had been healthy. Active. Her mother had always told her, “A girl’s got to watch her figure.”

College was a different world though. There was freedom here—a dangerous, intoxicating freedom. No parents to monitor her meals. No coach blowing a whistle, urging her to burn off those calories. Just all-you-can-eat buffets and vending machines that beckoned her with chocolate and chips.

Her tray was nearly empty now, save for a few crumbs and a smear of red from the Jell-O. She felt a twinge of shame as she looked down at her bloated belly, the outline of her stomach straining against the plaid of her skirt. How had she let herself go like this? How had she become such a glutton? Deciding that she needed to start watching her weight, Tonia skipped the dining hall that evening. Instead of facing the endless buffet of fried chicken, creamy pasta, and rich desserts, she went to the campus store and bought a small bag of carrots and a handful of celery sticks. It wasn’t exactly dinner, but it was safe. She retreated to her dorm room, the quiet hum of the hallway a welcome change from the bustling chaos of the dining hall.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Tonia stared down at the sad pile of vegetables on her chipped white plate. She poked at them with a fork, wishing they would somehow transform into a heaping plate of lasagna. Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it, forcing a bite of celery into her mouth.

The door swung open, and Marcia shuffled in, arms full of textbooks. Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and her messy ponytail was half undone. She dropped her bag on the floor with a thud and blinked at Tonia.

“What are you eating?” Marcia asked, peering over the rim of her glasses.

“Carrots and celery,” Tonia mumbled. “Trying to, you know, watch my weight.”

Marcia’s eyes widened. “You too?”

Tonia looked up, surprised. “Yeah. I mean, all the food on campus... I can't seem to say no. I feel like I’m blowing up like a balloon.”

Marcia sat down heavily at her desk chair, which squeaked under her weight. “Tell me about it. I used to fit into this sweater. Now it feels like it’s shrinking every time I wash it, but I know it’s not the sweater—it’s me.”

Tonia let out a soft laugh, not entirely free of bitterness. “I keep telling myself I’ll eat salads and go for a jog, but then I walk by the cafeteria, and I swear they pump the smell of fresh bread into the air just to torture us.”

Marcia's eyes glazed over slightly, and she nodded solemnly. “And it doesn’t help that they have a dessert station right at the entrance. I mean, who puts cheesecake next to the fruit salad? That’s just cruel. You walk in there and—boom—you’re hit with the smell of fresh-baked cookies and warm apple pie. It’s like they want us to give in.”

Tonia’s stomach growled, loud enough that they both heard it. She blushed. “I know, right? I tell myself, ‘Just get a salad,’ but then I see the pasta bar, and it’s like I can already taste the creamy Alfredo sauce, the way it clings to the noodles, so rich and buttery. Before I know it, I’m loading my plate, and I’ve already forgotten about the salad.”

Marcia sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I know exactly what you mean. The other day, I went in just to get a yogurt, and then I saw they had garlic bread, all hot and steamy. I thought, ‘One piece won’t hurt,’ but then it was three pieces, and then I had a whole plate of spaghetti. And the worst part? I still got the yogurt—for dessert.”

They both laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it, a shared shame hidden beneath the humor.

Tonia leaned back against the wall, her expression softening. “I mean, I get why they say college is dangerous for your waistline. It’s like every meal is a buffet, and all the food is just... there. So easy. So tempting.”

Marcia bit her lip. “And it’s not just the cafeteria. It’s everywhere. The vending machines in every building, the pizza nights in the common room. I went to a study group last week, and they had donuts. Big, fluffy, powdered sugar-covered donuts. I swear, just smelling them made me gain a pound.”

Tonia nodded, her eyes distant, as if reliving the scene. “And the flavors... I can still taste that chocolate cake from the dining hall last Friday. The frosting was so thick and sweet. I told myself I’d only take a bite, but I ended up scraping every bit of frosting off the plate.”

Marcia hesitated, then spoke in a low, confessional tone. “Sometimes, when no one’s around, I eat in secret. I hide snacks in my drawer. When I’m studying late at night, I’ll just eat—and eat and eat. I know it’s bad, but it feels so good in the moment. Almost worth it.”

Tonia's expression mirrored Marcia's—a mix of guilt and longing. “Yeah. That’s the problem, right? It does feel good. The way a milkshake feels, so cold and thick, like you’re drinking pure happiness. And yeah, I hate how my jeans are getting tight, but... sometimes, I think, maybe it’s not so bad. Until I catch myself in the mirror.”

Marcia nodded. “Exactly. I tell myself I’ll do better tomorrow, but tomorrow comes, and it’s like I’m back to square one. The food is just too good. I don’t want to get too fat, but I don’t know how to stop.”

Silence settled over the room, thick with the weight of their shared struggle. The plate of vegetables sat untouched on Tonia’s lap, a stark reminder of the thin line between restraint and indulgence.

Finally, Marcia broke the silence. “Maybe we could help each other. I mean, if we’re both trying to get control... maybe it’ll be easier if we do it together.”

Tonia managed a weak smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Marcia leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I have an idea," she said, her glasses catching the dim light of the dorm room. "I've been working on a project in the chemistry lab. I think it might help us both."

Tonia raised an eyebrow. "What kind of project?"

Marcia glanced toward the door as if someone might be listening. "It’s a bit unconventional, but I think it could really work."

Marcia’s lips curled into a small, secretive smile. "Meet me at the lab tonight at midnight—no earlier, no later."

Before Tonia could ask anything more, Marcia had slipped out of the room, leaving behind only the lingering scent of her strawberry lip balm and a promise that hung in the air like a dare.

Tonia stared at the door, a knot forming in her stomach. Whatever Marcia had planned, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to know. She wanted to believe there was an easy answer, a quick fix, something that could take away the constant pull of temptation and the fear of losing control.

“Midnight at the laboratory,” she thought to herself. “What in hell am I getting myself into?”