Work Text:
I don't like Valentine's Day. Never have. Usually I just go home from work, sit down in front of the TV, enjoy an easy dinner, and pass out on the couch after drinking a whole bottle of wine.
Today I took off my shoes and coat at the door and am about to start my yearly ritual when there was a soft knock. I turn back to my front door and frown. I wasn't expecting anyone.
The hallway of my apartment building is empty. Except, of course, for a pretty large heart-shaped box of chocolates placed perfectly on my welcome mat. Over the swirling cursive that declared "Happy Valentine's Day" on is a sticky note that reads "Eat me ;)".
I look left and right down the hall. Nobody's there. And I had been so close to the door they couldn't have run away that fast. Maybe one of my neighbors left it. I shrug and pick up the box.
I turn on the TV to some random channel and a romcom I don't recognize starts playing. I just need some background noise so I let it go while I make dinner, pouring myself a large glass of wine to drink while I cook.
I had planned chicken alfredo, so I set the water to boil and get out the ingredients for the sauce. I take a couple gulps of wine (wanting it to work as quickly as possible) and after setting the sauce pan on the stove I notice the chocolates where I had left them on the counter.
Both pans were playing a waiting game now, so I flip open the box. There is a large assortment of all different kinds of chocolate and fillings. A few with nuts and a few with dusted freeze dried fruits, and a few with hearts drawn in pink chocolate. The artistry is excellent and this is not a small box. It must have cost a fortune, especially on Valentine’s Day.
I have never been skinny by any means, but I have gained a couple pounds since I started my new office job and I'm watching my weight. Who am I to say no to free chocolate, though? One or two won't hurt.
I pop one in my mouth and go back to cooking. There is an almost unnoticeable twinge in my gut, like something changed but I couldn't pin down what. I guess the wine is starting to make me bloated. I drain the glass and pour another one, grabbing another couple chocolates.
There's that feeling again, deep in my stomach. My brain starts to be a little fuzzy, too. I finish my second glass of wine, so again, probably just the alcohol making me bloated. My pants do feel a little tight. I probably should have changed into sweats before I started cooking.
The water starts boiling, so I add the pasta and stir the sauce. Then leave those to cook while I go to my bedroom to get out of my work clothes. Something feels different while I walk. It's such an odd thing, like my body is wobbling more. I'm already shaky because I'm definitely tipsy, so I just blame the alcohol.
I unbutton my jeans, which I admit are starting to get really uncomfortable and sigh with relief. It's a little bit of a struggle since I'm off balance, but I manage to get them off and pull up a pair of sweatpants. I get rid of my bra, which is also feeling tight and uncomfortable, and switch out my work shirt for one that was much looser fitting.
I frown down at myself. My belly is brushing the fabric of my shirt. It isn't pushing against it at all, but that's definitely not how it fit the night before when I wore it to bed. I guess that wine is making me really bloated. I'll have to check the label and make sure I don't buy that brand again.
I go back to the kitchen to finish cooking and eat four more chocolates. The weird feeling in my gut is louder this time and I almost let out an involuntary moan. Something feels off.
I eat another chocolate and as I'm drinking a little more wine I notice that my sweatpants feel like they fit awkwardly. Like I can't get comfortable in them. I pull them up a little more, having to shimmy to get them higher over my hips and my belly. I guess I put on a little more weight than I thought. My shirt is also laying different, my belly poking out noticeably under the fabric.
There are only seven more chocolates in the box, so I might as well finish it. I eat six in quick succession and my stomach twists, growling loudly. My belly feels heavier and my whole body feels warm. I drain my third glass of wine and finish plating my food. Pouring myself another glass, I eat the last chocolate, then I grab my food and wine and go to the couch to sit down. One movie is ending on the TV and another one is starting.
I put my food and drink on the coffee table and as I sit the waistband of my sweatpants disappears under my belly. I don't lean so much as fall backwards, my gut demanding space. I rock side to side to push myself up and my belly spreads my legs apart. I notice how tight my shirt is. It's hugging my boobs so hard it's squishing them. My belly, hanging over my sweatpants, is peeking out under this shirt that I'm pretty sure fit me last night. Maybe it didn't.
I place my hands on my gut and shake it a little. It jiggles pleasantly. My whole body feels so much heavier. My hips, my belly, my boobs. I shift on the couch, not used to this new weight and trying to find a comfortable position. It ends up being more of a roll, though. I must look about nine months pregnant with triplets with how big my middle is. I feel almost pinned down under the weight.
My stomach whines, reminding me that I haven't eaten dinner yet. I lean forward, groaning with the effort of reaching over fat I'm almost positive wasn't there when I got home, and grab my dinner and my wine.
So much for watching my weight.