Turn 7 of 28
look at herself in full length mirror while still naked and notice changes. Then order enormous Sunday brunch and eat on couch, still naked. Finally, respond to Priya then continue stuffing herself for the rest of the day. Still no shower, shaving, or brushing teeth. Start to accept arousal when burping and farting and start forcing it out. Start adding alcohol to consumption as well.
Lena stands in front of the full-length mirror on Sunday morning and doesn't recognize the woman looking back. She is bigger everywhere — her belly round and heavy, hanging low enough to brush the tops of her thighs, her breasts full and soft, her arms thick, her sides rolling in gentle curves she didn't have a week ago. Her face has softened, jawline blurred, cheeks rounder, a small double chin forming beneath. The hair on her legs and under her arms is visible now, dark against her skin, and a faint trail marks the line below her navel. She runs her hands over herself slowly, feeling the new terrain — the way her back has broadened, the way her thighs press together even when she stands with her feet apart, the way her belly folds when she bends. The warmth pulses under her skin and she watches herself grow, just slightly, in the time it takes to stand there. She smiles.
She orders brunch from the place three blocks away — eggs Benedict, a stack of pancakes, waffles with strawberries, a side of bacon, a side of sausage, hash browns, a breakfast burrito, a large orange juice, and a bottle of prosecco she finds at the back of her fridge. When the delivery arrives she takes the bags naked at the door, signs without meeting the driver's eyes, and carries everything to the couch in two trips. She eats with her fingers, tearing into the burrito, syrup dripping from the pancakes onto her bare stomach, grease shining on her lips. She opens the prosecco with her teeth and drinks from the bottle, the fizz bubbling up into a long belch that she forces deeper, leaning forward, feeling the pressure build and release in a rolling wave that makes her whole body shudder. Something warm pools low in her belly that isn't the food.
Her phone is buried under a napkin on the couch cushion. She digs it out and opens Instagram. Priya's comment is still there — "Wait is that you?? You look AMAZING" — and beneath it, a DM from Friday night she hadn't noticed: "hey, i know we haven't talked in a while but i saw your post and wow. can we get coffee sometime? i want to hear everything."
Lena types with greasy fingers, wiping the screen on her thigh after every word.
"hey priya. yeah. coffee sounds good. this week maybe?" She sends it before she can overthink it, then takes a long pull from the prosecco bottle and reaches for the waffles.
The afternoon stretches long and warm. She orders Thai food, then a pizza, then another bottle of wine from the delivery app. She eats and drinks on the couch with the blanket bunched beneath her, the air thick with the smell of her body and old food. She forces a fart out now, pressing down with her stomach muscles, and the long rumble vibrates through the couch and through her, a low hum that settles between her hips. She exhales slowly, eyes half-closed, and takes another drink. She doesn't know if it's the wine or the wish or just the slow unspooling of years of restraint, but the feeling is undeniable — a warmth that sharpens every time she releases, every time she fills herself, every time she feels her body push a little further outward. She stops questioning it. She reaches for the pizza, and a belch rolls up from her stomach, long and low and deliberate, and she leans into it with a soft, satisfied sound that isn't quite a moan.