Podgy: A very short love story

“I have a new pet name for you,” he said, one evening after we rolled off the bed, and I stood in front of the mirror fidgeting with my bra strap. “Ya?” I said, even as I was looking at the roll of fat around my belly, and the black circles that had come from staying awake too late, usually to just chat with him. “Podgy,” he smiled and then laughed when he saw my horrified reaction. “What!!! It’s cute and suits you,” he said, as he walked by slapping my butt. “You can’t call me podgy. It’s not even a cute name – it’s makes me feel like I am a pig…. Nooo!” I said, as I plopped back in bed on my stomach, throwing my feet like a five-year-old. “But I like podgy girls… so you are podgy,” he growled into my ear, as he lay over me, his skin on mine. Only he could do this — turn me on just with one touch. But I wasn’t going to be okay with this name. I spent hours dressing up for him, doing my hair, smelling good… even buying pretty underwear, which I don’t think he ever bothered seeing – sure, I was a little plump, but podgy. No way. This was making me depressed. “No, you are not calling me podgy. That makes me feel ugly. I don’t care if it’s in jest, or if you think it’s affection. I won’t agree,” I said as I turned on my side, with a tear rolling down my face. And then he hugged me from behind, spooning his frame into mine – always such a perfect fit. And his hand went around that muffin top, cupping it with his fingers. “It is affection. It’s love. Your body is beautiful to me. What would I do if you were like other girls and didn’t eat pizza with me? Or share my whiskey and coke? And your dark circles, are proof that you love me. Because after a long day, you still sit and talk to me… hear my worries, and put your hand over my head as I whine. Your body, your face, are testaments of who you are, my lover,” he said as he snuggled closer in. And then he dug his fingers deeper in her flesh and said, “So cute… my little podgy.” She smiled into his arms and then mock scowled, “Only you can say that.” And then he said, “Because it’s mine. All mine. That’s why only I can say that. Only me.” Finally, Podgy was happy.


The love letter series: the last one

I have decided to stop loving you. It’s the first step to freedom. Freedom from the pain. I have decided that I will forget you. Because I know you will forget me. Just knowing that makes me want to forget you. I know you won’t stop me when I get up to leave. You won’t say ‘no my life doesn’t work without you’. So then why stay right? I am tired. I want to lay on a beach with the sun burning into my skin and not feel anymore. I just want to be light again. I feel heavy. With all this emotion, with all this love. This love is like rocks tied to me and it will drown me. It’s like I am wrapped up tightly. I can’t breathe. I need to breathe again. I need to sleep a good night’s sleep again. I would rather be sad but at peace again. I want to be free from the jealousy, pain, hurt, and longing. I don’t want to care anymore because it’s killing me. And I don’t want to die. I love you. But I don’t want to die.

No longer yours