by Louise Lyons
Luke smiled. “You shouldn’t put yourself down so much.”
“I suppose it’s a habit. My ex used to do it all the time. I took over the job of ‘tormenting Sam’ when he ditched me.”
“I’m sorry. Your ex sounds like an idiot.” Luke looked up and met my gaze. His blue eyes were serious and sad.
“He was the only man who ever wanted to go out with me.” I looked away and concentrated on my coffee. I didn’t want to talk about Mark. I’d end up sounding like a complete loser. Twenty-three years old and I’d only ever had one boyfriend—one I’d put up with for much longer than I should have, simply because I was desperate for someone to want me. “What about you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Do you mean, do I have a boyfriend? No.” Luke’s face shuttered. He toyed with his apple, rolling it back and forth between his hands, then pulling the stalk out. I wondered if he’d had a bad relationship too, but I didn’t dare ask. We barely knew each other.
“Touchy subject?” I silently cursed my runaway tongue. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Luke sighed heavily and looked up again. “I went out with an idiot too. Without going into any detail, he made me feel like shit. Like I was useless and pathetic. I found out he’d cheated on me, and he just laughed and rubbed my nose in it. This other guy was hotter than me and more fun. More everything. You’ll think I’m stupid, but I kept seeing him because he’d made me think he was the only chance I had of being with someone. He went with four other men before I finally found some self-respect and walked away.” He hung his head and his hair fell into his eyes, but not before I noticed tears welling in the corners. My heart ached for him, and I reached across the table to touch his hand.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured. “He was a dickhead. How could you think no one else would want you?”
Luke shrugged and pulled his hand away from mine. “You just told me you felt exactly the same.”
“Yeah, but look at me. And look at you. You’re… you’re gorgeous.” My face burned and I was relieved Luke didn’t raise his head and see, although his lips twitched.
“Thanks, but it’s not all about looks.” He blew out a long breath, wrapped both hands around his coffee mug, and gulped some before he straightened in his chair. “I didn’t mean to tell you all that.”
“It’s fine. You can tell me anything you want.”
“Maybe some other time. I should get back to work.”
“Yeah, of course.” My heart sank as he got up from the table. “What shift are you working during the week?”
“Two until ten, but it’s my day off tomorrow.”
“I expect I’ll see you Tuesday then.” I smiled up at him and he nodded, then left me and walked out of the cafeteria.
I stayed there for a while, rolling Luke’s apple back and forth the way he’d done. As he’d left it behind I eventually ate it before I set off for home. I walked back slowly, deep in thought.
I couldn’t get Luke out of my mind. The jerk he’d dated seemed to have hurt him as much as Mark had hurt me. It was difficult to believe that someone as attractive and sweet as Luke was single, and despite being certain I wouldn’t be the one to change that, it didn’t stop me dreaming about it. If he was mine, he’d never feel useless or unwanted. I wouldn’t let a day pass without making sure he knew how special he was. But he wasn’t mine.
THE NEXT few weeks passed by and I didn’t get another chance to talk to Luke beyond brief chats in the gym about my workouts and a casual “How are you?” I could have gone to the gym one Saturday and tried to coincide my visit with his break, but I talked myself out of it. Instead I concentrated on increasing my efforts at getting fit.
I’d progressed to fifteen minutes on each of the four pieces of equipment I used, and my sessions on the treadmill now included eight minutes of running—not shuffling, but actual running, without the need to hold onto the safety bar. I jogged alongside Tom most evenings, panting too hard to chat to him beyond one-word comments, but improving on a daily basis. Both he and Luke had commented recently that I looked great, but I still hadn’t had the courage to stand in front of my mirror and examine myself. Looking at my face when I shaved was enough, although I’d noticed the disappearance of one of my chins and a lessening of the fleshy areas along my jaw.
I’d finally bought myself a selection of new clothes, including lightweight running pants, three aerated Tshirts, and a pair of trainers from a sports shop, as well as an assortment of cheap trousers, shirts, jeans, and casual tops. I hated the idea of spending a fortune on new clothes and then, hopefully, needing to replace them again in a few months’ time when I lost more weight. I’d decided I would treat myself to some better quality things when I reached my target. I was already pleased that the items I bought were a smaller size than usual, but I still didn’t look in the mirror or try measuring myself. Instead I waited to see Dr. Maddock again. I’d done exactly as he said—sticking to my healthy eating regime all week, and allowing myself that one treat on Saturday nights. I varied the choice of takeaway, opting for Chinese one week, Indian another, and then pizza. On those days I always lost control of my sense of restraint and bought everything I fancied—enough to feed two or three people. I invariably regretted it afterward and worked out twice as hard for the next couple of days.
When I went to see the doctor, I felt much less trepidation than I had the previous time and I actually looked at the scales when I stood on them. I knew I’d lost a good amount of weight and I wanted to see it for myself.
“Twenty-three pounds.” Dr. Maddock confirmed what I saw.
“It’s not as much as I’d hoped.”
“After the initial changes you made, and the big loss in the first couple of weeks, it’s normal to slow down to a steadier loss. You’re doing very well, Sam, and losing at a healthy rate. Thirty-eight pounds in two months is excellent. Just keep going the way you are. Your blood pressure is much better. I’m not going to ask you to make another appointment with me unless you feel you need one. Just continue with what you’re doing.”
When I left I walked home, despite the distance being much greater than my route between the gym and my apartment. I felt pleased with myself even though I hadn’t lost as much as I’d wanted. I was well on the way to where I wanted to be. Not only was my body shrinking, but as I strode along swinging my arms, I noticed my breathing hadn’t changed. When I arrived home I jogged up the stairs and still hadn’t broken a sweat when I unlocked my door. I hadn’t felt this good about myself in years, and I finally stripped off my clothes and stood in front of the mirror in the corner of my bedroom.
I examined myself critically from head to toe. My chest had definitely shrunk, quite considerably. It was still broad, but the man-boobs had almost disappeared. My thick mat of chest hair hadn’t been trimmed in a long time. It extended down over my mound of a stomach—rather less of a mound than before—and flared out into a thick bush around my cock. Damn, I really needed to take better care of myself. I looked like a bear.
I grinned at my reflection and cast my eyes down farther. My thighs were still chunky, but a lot less wobbly than they had been, and they weren’t virtually joined together from my groin to my knees. I turned sideways and looked at my profile. I was still big, but I could imagine myself in another month or two, with a few less inches of stomach and more toning. I might even like looking at myself eventually. I wasn’t an ugly man—at least I didn’t think so. I just had too much flesh on my bones.
I took another look at my face. My medium brown hair was getting a bit long and needed a cut, but it framed my face nicely. I’d always liked my brown eyes until Mark had told me they were boring like the rest of me. I smiled at myself and the chocolate orbs shone back at me.
Finally I lowered my eyes from the mirror and looked down at my body again. It was a long time since I’d seen my feet, but there they were, hairy toes and all. I still couldn’t see my cock while it was flaccid, but I grasped the tip and held i
t out at right angles to my body. Even soft I could see part of it, and I was delighted. Maybe the next time Luke told me I looked good I might believe him.
Chapter Four
I WENT to the gym on Saturday for the first time. I hadn’t seen Luke all week, and I assumed he’d been on an early shift. I left my bag in a locker as usual and went to the main part of the gym, but I didn’t see him. He’d said he didn’t work every Saturday, just most of them, so I assumed either he wasn’t there or he was teaching a class upstairs.
I got on with my workout and asked one of the other trainers for some help with the weight machines. I’d read some articles on the internet about toning up, and learned that various resistance machines would do wonders for tightening up the wobbly parts. I was intimidated when I approached a trainer I hadn’t spoken to before. His large frame bulged with muscles, and his rugged face held an unfriendly expression as he put away some dumbbells that had been left on the floor. But when I spoke he smiled and introduced himself as Ryan. He showed me various machines for working my arms, legs, and stomach, and stayed with me while I completed a circuit of ten repetitions on each machine. He recommended I take it steady, but try to do three circuits.
It was hard work. I wasn’t used to working my muscles in that way, but I persevered until I’d finished the three laps of six machines. Ryan gave me a thumbs up from across the room. I went to take a shower and put on one of the new short-sleeved shirts I’d recently bought. The light blue fabric was broken with darker blue flecks and it was one of the nicest garments I’d had in a long time. I tucked it into my jeans and tightened my belt, which went a notch farther than it had two weeks earlier. Again I applauded myself for buying cheap clothes. It wouldn’t be long before I’d need even smaller items.
I headed for the cafeteria to check whether Luke was in there before I left, but there was no sign of him. Disappointed, I left the building, deciding to walk home. I walked more often than I took the bus these days, and it was a glorious sunny day. I crossed the gym’s carpark and suddenly spotted Luke jogging toward me, his rucksack bouncing on his shoulders.
“Hi, Sam!” He halted in front of me.
“Hi. Did you have an early shift this week?”
“Yeah. I’m on a later one today. I start in about twenty minutes. How are you getting on?”
“Great. I started using some weight machines today to tone up more. Ryan showed me how they work.”
“Ryan’s nice. I hang out with him and his girlfriend sometimes.” Luke looked me up and down, then met my eyes. “I like your shirt.”
“Thanks. I got a lot of new stuff recently.”
“It looks good. You can really see the difference in you from the last few weeks.”
“Thanks.” I cleared my throat and resisted the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. My heart raced and I went ahead with what was in my mind before I could think about it anymore. “I was hoping I’d see you today. I wanted to ask you something. I wondered if… I mean, you probably don’t, but maybe you’d like to go out sometime. For dinner, or to see a film, or something like that. Whatever you like.” I stopped before I could ramble on anymore, and waited hopefully for his reply. His eyes had widened in the middle of my invitation. His cheeks flushed pink and he looked down to avoid my gaze.
“I’m really sorry, Sam. I can’t. Please don’t take it the wrong way, but…” He raised his head again, although he stared at the lower part of my face rather than meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, then turned and walked away.
I watched until he disappeared into the gym. My heart sank into my fancy Nike running shoes; the only item I’d spent a lot of money on. Of course he didn’t want to go out with me. Why would he? Just because I’d lost a few pounds and bought some new clothes, it didn’t make me a good catch.
Aware that I was standing in the middle of the carpark, most likely looking like a lost puppy, I turned away and began to walk. Despite my exhaustion from the workout and my aching muscles, I charged along at top speed all the way home. Luke’s rejection mortified me, but on top of that I was furious with myself. We’d become friends and I’d probably just lost the only friend I had by trying to make more out of it. How the hell could I face him again now?
By the time I pounded up the stairs to my apartment, angry tears had filled my eyes and I was wet from head to foot with the sweat I’d worked up on the way home. I stripped my clothes off, tossed the new shirt into the laundry basket, and took another shower. Standing under the hot water, I cried my eyes out like a kid who’d been denied a much-longed-for new toy. I must have presented a pathetic sight, with my flabby body bright red from the heat of the shower, shivering and wobbling as I sobbed and snuffled.
Eventually the hot water ran cold and I turned it off, scrubbed myself dry and got dressed. I was as low as I’d been in a long time, with my new and still fragile confidence shattered around me. I spent the rest of the day huddled on the sofa watching TV, only interrupting whatever mindless show I watched to answer the door to the pizza delivery boy. A fifteen inch stuffed crust was my companion for the evening, and as I munched my way through thousands of calories of fat, I wondered if I should have just stuck with food rather than get my hopes up that a man might actually want me again. It had been a ridiculous idea. Mark had been right all along. I’d spend the rest of my life alone.
I DIDN’T go out on Sunday. I ordered a grocery delivery from Tesco online as my fridge was filled with fresh vegetables, meat, and skimmed milk. I didn’t think twice about stocking up on comfort food. I didn’t question what I was doing to myself, or how quickly I slipped back into my old ways. It was like greeting an old friend when I unpacked the bags and put away pies, frozen chips, and ice cream. A pint of my favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s accompanied me through Sunday afternoon, and when I was too fed up with myself to bother cooking any of the things I’d bought, I ordered Chinese food to be delivered. I wasn’t even hungry, but shoving greasy food down my throat was what I was used to. Physically it only made me feel like shit, but mentally it was a crutch. I went on and on, crunching my way through a vast bag of prawn crackers long after I was uncomfortably full. I finished with another pint of ice cream, finding short-lived pleasure in the chocolatey concoction with marshmallow pieces and sticky sauce. I was back to square one.
I didn’t go to the gym all week. I hadn’t completely fallen back into my old habits, but it was only shame that made me continue with healthy choices for lunch while I was at work. My colleagues had commented on the difference in me over past weeks, with my obvious weight loss and refusal to touch the pastries and cakes. Digging into them again would make the staff gossip, so I ate my usual salad sandwiches, then went home to pies and chips, or frozen pizza. I ate with defiance, mentally punishing myself for being undesirable.
I’d read a book called Love Hunger a few months earlier, and discovered it could have been written about me. Food replaced everything that was missing in my life: companionship, sex, and love. Even as I knew exactly what I was doing to myself, I carried on. I ate and ate until I literally made myself sick. I didn’t do it intentionally; I didn’t shove my fingers down my throat to purge myself of the ghastly amount of crap I’d eaten. But my stomach couldn’t take what I was doing to it, after growing used to a balanced supply of protein, carbohydrates, fresh vegetables, and fruit. On Thursday it violently rejected the fat and sugar I’d filled it with, and on Friday I called in sick at work and spent the day in bed. I lay there, bloated and unhappy, caught once more in a vicious circle of self-loathing. Pizza and ice cream were the only things that comforted me, but at the same time they were destined to take me back to where I’d been ten weeks ago; even more unattractive than I was at that moment.
I had to get back in control and think about my health again. I’d started off in April with a plan to take care of myself for my own wellbeing, but one little rejection had blown itself up into monumental proportions and pushed me back down. It was almost as if the
hope that Luke might like me had become the only reason for me to keep improving.
On Saturday I hauled myself out of bed and took a look at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t say I looked much different, but when I tried on my newest pair of jeans, I could barely get them fastened, and I knew I’d done a fair amount of damage over the past week. It was time to get back to what had become normal to me, although I wasn’t sure how I would face walking into the gym again. I dreaded seeing Luke. I could imagine the look of pity he’d probably have on his face. Instead I decided to go out for a long walk. Maybe I could make up my own exercise routine and I wouldn’t have to go back. I could buy a bike and ride outside in the fresh air.
I walked for two hours that afternoon. I still felt miserable and by the time I’d finished I was starving. I stood in front of my fridge, trying to talk myself into making a chicken and vegetable risotto, but it seemed like a lot of hard work for something I didn’t really want. Picking up the phone, I ordered a double pepperoni with extra cheese. It was Saturday after all and I always had a treat on Saturdays. That was what I told myself as I chewed my way through the artery-clogging pizza.
It wasn’t long after I’d finished it, already regretting every bite, when my doorbell rang. No one ever visited me unless it was a delivery boy bringing food. My parents had only condescended to call at my apartment once since I moved out. They expected me to go to them on the rare occasions we saw each other. I answered the intercom curiously and waited for the visitor to speak.
“Hello, Sam. It’s Luke.”
Shit!
I coughed, hoping I hadn’t said it out loud. “Um, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you. Can I come up?”
“Okay.” I pressed the door release, then scurried into the bathroom to check I didn’t have pizza topping around my mouth or on my T-shirt, which was likely. There was a little trail of melted cheese sticking to my chin and I wiped it away, bared my teeth to make sure they weren’t caked up with food, and reluctantly went to open my door. What on earth could Luke possibly want to talk to me about?