Not My Type (Part 1) (Patreon)

I'll also leave a short synopsis here so you know what you're getting into: Robin has had a crush on a girl named Margot who shops at the grocery store where she works for months. When she finally gets the courage to ask her out, Margot tells Robin she's not her type. Rather than taking the hit and moving on, Robin does some sleuthing and finds out Margot seems to be super into bigger girls. Since she's been rail-thin her whole life, Robin mulls over the idea of gaining and decides, "Why not? I can always lose the weight." Will her determination to win Margot's heart lead to a life of chubby bliss, or end with a giant belly flop?

***

I breathed in deeply as I stocked the shelves. It had been really quiet, as you’d imagine a grocery store would be in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday. I was only two hours into my shift and already screaming on the inside. Six hours left. Well, six and a half with lunch. Six and a half hours and then you’re home free. It couldn’t come soon enough. 

The only thing that broke the monotony of stocking shelves and helping customers who seemed completely unwilling to use their eyes to see things or their ears to listen was my favorite regular. Her name was Margot, and she was every bit the hipster you’d imagine a 22-year-old girl named Margot who lived in the city would be. (There’s just something about high-waisted denim shorts paired with floral combat boots that gets me every time. And the teal hair? Fuck me up.) She usually came in on Wednesdays when things were slow and took her time shopping, even though she rarely picked up more than ten things at once. I could swear she ate less than I did, and I could barely keep enough food down to keep myself from passing out most days. Most of the time, she was able to find everything she needed on her own, but on the rare occasions that she asked where something was or asked if I had any recommendations, it always made my day.

Thankfully, Margot needed help again that day. She was asking about pasta sauce, and god, she was so pretty. “I’ve been getting this one,” she said as she pointed to a pretty generic marinara sauce, “but I want something a little… you know, different.”

“Of course!” My customer service voice was on full blast. “So, we have this really great alfredo sauce here--”

“Oh. I was thinking I could try another red sauce.”

“Okay! Maybe one like this…”

We discussed the pros and cons of pasta sauce for about ten minutes. She ended up purchasing the same one she had gotten used to. I found this absolutely adorable. So adorable that I opened my dumbass mouth and said, “Um.” The words weren’t coming. “Hey. So, uh. I know we don’t really know each other, but I was wondering if you wanted to… go out sometime?” 

Margot was nonplussed. “As friends, or like a date?”

My pulse beat in my ears. Was I really going to do this? She’d just given me a way out. I could take it, but--“Like a date.” I was trying so hard not to look nervous. Oh my god, what if she wasn’t even gay? What if I’d just made her super uncomfortable because she wasn’t even--

“Oh.” She laughed a little. Fuck. Was that a good laugh? “You’re so sweet. I mean, you’re really cute, but not really my type.”

“Ah. I see.” I looked down at the ground and shoved my hands into my apron pockets. “Sorry about that, I just--ah.” I stopped myself. “Thank you for being so nice about it.” I gave a weak smile. “Hope you like the pasta sauce.”

“For sure.” She smiled and walked away.

I continued to stock the shelves while crying inside about how dumb I’d been to think my ideal girl would want to go out with me.

***

“Wait, so you’re telling me she asked for a different kind of pasta sauce because she was bored, and then she picked the same fucking sauce she said she was bored of?”

“Yes…” 

“What is it about this basic bitch you like so much? I truly just want to understand.” Jingyi actually did not want to understand. Jingyi was my best friend and at that point was ready to throw both me and Margot into a volcano. I had gabbled on about this girl for months. For whatever reason, Jingyi did not understand her appeal.

“She’s just really cute, okay? You’d have to see her to understand.”

“Is she really so cute that you’ve blinded yourself to how boring she is?”

“She’s not boring! She wears the cutest Docs with little daisies on them.”

“Those pre-printed ones? She probably spent like $100 on them in the Haight before she went to fuckin’ Crossroads to get another kooky sweater or whatever.”

“Leave her alone!” I opened up Instagram. I pulled up Margot’s profile (don’t ask) and held my phone up to Jingyi’s face. “See? She’s super cute.”

Jingyi grabbed my phone and scrolled further down through Margot’s photos. “Well, she’s definitely your type,” she said with an eyeroll. 

I pouted and took my phone back. “Rude.”

“Look, she’s not ugly. I’ll give you that. But it just doesn’t seem like there’s a whole lot there. No substance underneath the shine, you know what I mean?”

“I disagree.”

“Whatever you say, Robin.” She smiled at me as she ran her hands through her inch-long black hair. “So much that I will support you in this trying time. She’s not my type, but I know rejection never feels good. But you know what can heal any ailment, even a broken heart?”

“What?”

“Dim sum.”

“True. Let’s go.”

***

I promised Jingyi that I would move on, or at least try to. Margot was a no-go, and I needed to accept that. I knew I did. But in my mind, scrolling through her Instagram would definitely help with that. Staring at her selfies might help me see what Jingyi saw and get over her. 

At least, that’s what I told myself. I also told myself it wasn’t borderline stalkerish to pay extra attention to each of the photos where she was with other people, particularly the ones that seemed to include significant others. I was able to get an overview of several years’ worth of relationships. There were four truly significant others that had lasted more than a couple months, and a smattering of other people mixed in here and there. I was trying to pinpoint what it was that had drawn her to them, some trait I might be missing that could be rectified. What did those girls have that I didn’t? 

After several days of study, it hit me. I felt ridiculous for not having noticed it before, but it was blisteringly obvious in hindsight: every single one of her exes was some degree of fat. The smallest girls were still a little chubby, and the biggest looked like she was twice Margot’s size, if not more. Margot’s rejection echoed in my head. You’re really cute, but not my type. Was this what she’d meant? I hadn’t noticed any other common traits between the other girls. They were all attractive, but looked entirely different from each other in every respect except their sizes. I was a size zero. The bra size that fit me most comfortably was a 28 “nearly A.” Had she really turned me down just because I was too thin for her? 

I mulled over this for a couple days. As I stocked shelves and helped other customers, I wondered what it might be like to be soft. I had never been soft. My body was angular. If someone were to describe me politely, they might use the words “elfin” or “slender.” I personally thought I looked more twiggy and bony than anything else, but to each their own. I enjoyed food, but I was usually pretty satisfied after a few bites. The thought of really indulging was appealing, but I wasn’t even sure if it was possible. I’d never really tested my limits in that regard. There had never been a reason to. Now, though… well, Margot’s apparent preferences had opened my mind a bit. 

Maybe it was silly, but it had never crossed my mind that my thinness would be a reason someone wouldn’t date me. I knew that there were people who preferred fuller figures, but since my own sense of what was attractive was rather flexible, I had never assumed that people had hard rules about those sorts of things. And I had always been curious about what it would be like to have an ass to show off or boobs that actually filled out a dress, though I’d let go of fantasies of ever having a body like that years ago.

Eventually, my thoughts all came to the same place, a little whisper saying, What if I tried it out? The worst that would happen would be that I didn’t like it, and then I could just lose the weight. The best thing that could happen would be Margot seeing the error of her ways and deciding I might actually be her type after all. 

It took about five minutes to decide that I was going to head to Panda Express for dinner after work and try to finish a whole two-entree meal by myself. I could barely finish a bowl with one entree on my own, so I knew this would be a challenge. Still, for once I had a decent reason to eat beyond just making sure I didn’t starve. I was sure the motivation would carry me through.

I was excited as I ordered. I got fried rice, and then eggplant tofu and kung pao chicken for my entrees. I rushed home with my food, wanting to make sure I could enjoy it while I was still warm. I sat on my couch and somehow made it through all of the kung pao chicken without much difficulty. About halfway through the rice, though, I was flagging. It just felt like so much--an impossible amount of food. I leaned back on the couch, running my hands over my flat stomach and taking deep breaths. I didn’t even have the beginnings of a food baby going. How could I already feel like I was at capacity? 

Just then, Jingyi walked in the front door. “Oooh, Panda? You went to Panda and you didn’t tell me?? Damn, I feel unloved.” She took a few more steps into the room and actually looked at what I’d gotten. “Woah, a whole two-entree plate? Your eyes must’ve been way bigger than your stomach.”

“For real.” I groaned as I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. No dice. “For some reason, I really thought I could finish it all today.”

“I’ll eat the rest if you’re not gonna.”

“Oh, no, I’m still going to try and finish!” I said hurriedly, which earned me raised eyebrows from Jingyi. “Just needed a little break.”

“Okay,” she said, still looking incredibly skeptical. I saw her eyes dart towards my stomach. There was an odd look on her face, but I couldn’t quite place it. “I’m gonna go chill in my room for a bit. Are we still on for the Anne of Green Gables marathon tonight?” I nodded, and Jingyi gave me a thumbs up before disappearing into her bedroom. 

***

It took way longer than it should have, but I did eventually manage to finish all of my order from Panda. As Jingyi and I watched our show, I was besieged by discomfort. I was so bloated that my stomach had begun to bow outward, and the gurgles of all that greasy food churning inside me were obnoxiously loud. When I finally crawled into bed later that night, I still felt full. How was I supposed to gain weight if this one meal made me so full I felt incapacitated? 

I cradled my still-bloated tummy, trying not to groan. And yet, somehow, I felt a perverse kind of pleasure. I imagined myself looking a little curvier the next day, and being able to get the same meal again and again until eventually I could eat it with no trouble. By that time, I’d be well on my way to looking like someone Margot would date, with solid C-cups and shorts that showed off the ass I was sure to get. It might have taken me hours to finish my meal, but I had still enjoyed eating it. 

I shifted positions and let out a belch, covering my mouth in embarrassment. But then I noticed something: I had room. I was still full--fuller than I’d been in years--but the thought of eating more was no longer sickening. I lay in bed quietly for a few moments, silently debating. Should I get up and get something to eat? Was that what I really wanted? Or should I just sleep off this first binge and start again tomorrow?

A few minutes later, I was slipping out of my room, padding down the hallway in my fuzzy socks. I got to the kitchen and opened each cabinet silently, waiting for some snack or other to catch my eye. As soon as I spotted the unopened pack of Oreos, I snatched it and headed back to my room, reminding myself to replace it later. 

I only managed to eat six before I felt too full again. But still, according to the label, that was another 320 calories that I wouldn’t have had in me otherwise. I put away the cookies and then snuggled back into bed, allowing myself to be lulled to sleep by the sounds of my stomach digesting.

***

A week later, I was having trouble buttoning a pair of pants. It was a first for me, and I couldn’t help but feel proud. I hadn’t noticed any changes myself, but it was clear that my body was different. Once I got the pants on (just barely), I stood in front of the mirror and took stock of my body. Overall, I looked the same. But if I lifted up my shirt, I could see that my ribs were a little less visible. My elbows and knees looked a tiny bit less knobby. I still didn’t have much of a chest to speak of, but my butt definitely didn’t look as flat as it had before. I loved all the little changes and I was eager to see more of them. It felt like I was molding my body in a way I never had before.

When I went to the grocery store, I picked up a bunch more snacks than I normally would and even grabbed things like cake and cookie mixes and soda. My capacity still wasn’t all that great, but my appetite had grown less birdlike over the course of the week. I’d done some research to figure out how to increase my capacity and had been doing water bloats to train my my stomach to expand. I was working my way up to a full liter, and I was already seeing some effects on my appetite. I was hungrier a lot more often, and I could eat a little more at every meal.

None of these changes were particularly noticeable to anyone but me. My roommates had commented on my increased appetite, as they’d been surprised that I had actually begun to use the spaces reserved for me in the fridge and cabinets, but it had merely been curiosity rather than a comment on my weight. 

Two weeks after I started stuffing myself regularly, I had officially outgrown every pair of size 0 pants I owned. My thighs were no longer twiggy enough to fit, and my belly and hips had enough padding on them that there was no way to get them buttoned any longer. I had one pair of 2s, but I knew I would need to buy more, along with some 4s, since I definitely wasn’t ready to stop gaining weight any time soon.