My Boyfriend Forces Me to Starve — Story of the Day

I was starving myself, not because of a lack of money but because my boyfriend thought I was too fat. I thought I was the problem until I met a personal trainer who reminded me what I was worth. And at last, the real problem became clear.

I found myself alone in a sparsely filled restaurant, my gaze nervously scanning the tables around me. A shiver of anxiety crept through me from my own table, where I wasn't allowed to eat. My hand instinctively rubbed my belly.

Dressed in an expensive outfit, I didn't exactly look out of place, but I was different. Unlike everyone else, I was starving.

I saw a table with an untouched meal – fries, a giant hamburger, and ketchup. The sight was tempting, yet I thought, Don't even dare, Matilda.

But my hunger overruled my thoughts, and I rushed towards the food. Resisting the urge to order was one thing, but facing an already-served meal was another. Overwhelmed by the aroma, I succumbed and bit into the hamburger, abandoning any pretense of refinement.

As I devoured the high-calorie treat, a voice startled me. "Ehm, sorry to bother you," said a young man. "Why are you stealing my food?"

Embarrassed, I muttered an apology, my cheeks burning red.

He seemed undeterred. "Hi, I'm Harry. If you're hungry, I can buy you something."

Confused, I stayed silent for a second. But before I could consider his offer, a voice interrupted us.

"Hey, waiter! We're not interested in any desserts," my boyfriend, Peter, wearing dark, expensive clothes, called out rudely. I lowered my gaze, trying to hide my shame.

Harry frowned. "I'm a customer, not a waiter," he countered. Then, they stared at each other in that particular way men do when they're sizing competitors.

So, I intervened, "Peter, honey. If you're done, we can go."

Peter's eyes drifted from me to Harry's half-eaten hamburger and then to my face. His lips pursed. "Matilda… did you eat something?" he demanded, his tone ominous.

I could only whisper, "No," while lowering my gaze.

Peter's hand reached for the fries as his other brought me closer to his face. "Did you eat this?"

I couldn't help but stare at the fried potatoes, cowering. His voice rose, demanding an answer. When his eyes darkened further, I muttered a weak, "I'm sorry."

"Hey! Why are you talking to her like that?" Harry asked, trying to get in between us.

"Mind your business!" Peter snapped, throwing the fries on the floor. His face quickly returned to me. "We'll talk about this at home," he snapped, grabbed his jacket from the table, and pulled my arm harshly.

"Get your hands off her!" Harry insisted, stepping between us.

"No, don't touch him!" I said, not letting him get close to Peter. Others stared then, so I diffused the situation as best as possible.

But as I left with my boyfriend, I looked at the kind eyes of that stranger whose burger I had munched on. "Thank you for the food," I mouthed, thankful Peter was walking ahead.

Inside the car, Peter exploded as he started the engine. "How dare you? Do you want to get fat?"

I remained silent, listening to his rant, which always started with anger and then turned to sweetness.

"I love you! It's the only reason I'll never stand by and allow you to make such bad decisions," he said before announcing plans to get me a personal trainer.

That's why I loved him. And he loved me. He cared, right? I didn't want to make him unhappy.

***

The next morning, we went to the gym together.

"I refuse to let that burger you ate sit there any longer," Peter whispered harshly as we entered. "See what I have to do to prove my love? I took time off work to make sure you don't gain weight!"

His demeanor didn't soften as we went and paid for a day pass. In fact, he snapped and demanded the best trainer for me from the attendant, who complied despite his rudeness. Peter then insisted I work off the fast food from last night, as he wanted me to lose two pounds each day.

When I protested, saying that was impossible, he shut me down.

"What's impossible, Matilda, is to be fat and ugly and still be with someone like me," Peter whispered, smiling, but it was a cruel expression. "If you love me, you'll do it."

Tears filled my eyes as I nodded. "Yes, I understand," I mumbled.

Peter then drew me close, his hands on my shoulders, then moving to my neck, squeezing gently but firmly. He whispered about his love for me as his grip tightened.

"You're hurting me," I whispered back.

Peter pushed me away harsher than I expected. "I have to go," he murmured, smirking again. As he walked away, I tried to reassure myself of his love despite the pain that his words and actions always brought.

Then, a familiar voice broke through my thoughts. "Hey! Are you stalking me? I don't have any fries today," Harry joked. "I'm assigned to be your trainer.

My eyes widened, knowing that this would not sit right with Peter. I asked for another trainer.

Harry scoffed playfully. "At least I won't make you starve like your crazy boyfriend," he added.

I quickly defended my boyfriend. "Don't say that! He's the only one who takes care of me," I scolded, walking away and picking a spot between a couple of benches to sit.

After a few minutes, Harry joined me. He tried to reassure me, saying I was beautiful and could find a better partner, but I didn't believe him. Peter's constant comments and demeanor were the norm for me, but Harry's words were making me question things. I didn't like that feeling.

Still, as he began to tell me that training at the gym shouldn't be focused on weight or getting skinny, I started to soften. It felt nice to be spoken to gently, especially about weight.

I confided in Harry about my diet struggles all through childhood and how Peter was the only one who paid attention to me because I used to be bigger.

"You aren't fat now," he said, shaking his head. "You're too skinny!"

"Stop," I said, looking down and up again. "Please, Harry. Can you help me lose weight?"

"Okay, how about..." he nodded. "...a change of scenery?"

I followed him to an unexpected destination—a dazzling skating rink near the gym. I had never skated before and felt nervous, but Harry's patience and caring guidance pushed me forward.

On the ice, Harry was supportive and reassuring. When I expressed my fear of falling, he encouraged me to hold onto him. This kindness was so different from what I was used to.

As we skated, I found myself genuinely enjoying the moment. Harry told me to close my eyes. I trusted him, so I held on tighter, closed my eyes, and felt an exhilarating sense of freedom.

The cold air around us was filled with laughter as we raced playfully.

"You're even prettier than before," he said softly, and I opened my eyes to see his own focused solely on me. For the first time in ages, the fluttering in my stomach had nothing to do with fear or anxiety.

In this small moment, I was free from worries and genuinely happy.

***

After hours of joyful skating, I was startled by a call from Peter. His ringtone took away my smile, which is why Harry told me not to answer it.

"Don't let anyone make you unhappy," he said, his kind eyes urging me.

I nodded, rejecting the call to prolong my happiness. Then, Harry suggested eating some carbs, so we went to the skate rink's food stand. We both got hot dogs, and noticing a smear of sauce on Harry's mouth, I reached out to wipe it away unthinkingly.

"I'm so sorry," I said after realizing what I had done.

Harry laughed. "We're acting like boyfriend and girlfriend."

I froze, but he quickly diffused any awkwardness by saying he was getting us more hot dogs. As he left, I sat there, feeling rebellious and happy, until Peter's loud voice shattered the moment.

"What are you doing here?" Peter growled.

"I'm training," I answered. "My coach is over there."

"Lies! You came in here to eat more fast food again as if you weren't fat enough!" Peter bellowed, his entire neck reddening. He continued, hurling the most horrible words at me. I was a cow. I was a loser. I would never do anything right.

And I remembered what Harry said a little earlier. Don't let anyone make you unhappy.

"That's enough!" I screamed, interrupting him. Peter spluttered and opened his mouth to say more, but I spoke first. "I'm leaving you. We're done!"

"Oh, leaving me, huh? Who else are you going to date?" he mocked, trying to keep his bravado, but something had changed between us. His hold on me had broken… at last.

"I don't care. I'll date myself," I declared, shrugging.

Suddenly, his eyes turned dark, and he moved before I could fully register it. Peter grabbed my neck, demanding I repeat my words. But I stood firm, ready to break free.

"Get your filthy hands off her!" Harry commanded right at that second.

Peter looked ready to throw a punch, but we both finally noticed the crowd we had attracted. I saw a woman putting her phone to her ear as if calling the police. I stared at my now-ex as he mulled over the situation, and his eyes turned to me.

I knew his thoughts. He had decided that he didn't care about the crowd. He was going to do something. Something to hurt me. But suddenly, a hot dog was splattered on his face.

Peter began hollering. "I have mustard in my eye!"

For some reason, I thought it was hilarious and began laughing, a sound that came from deep within my belly. Harry laughed with me, and we continued as Peter ran off, probably in search of a bathroom.

Harry turned to me with a triumphant grin, saying, "Now that's how you deal with bullies."

My laughter died, but my smile was set in place. "He's not my concern anymore," I said, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

"Yeah, so can I ask you out now?" Harry grinned.

I grinned wider. "It depends. How am I supposed to look?"

"I don't care as long as you keep that smile," he answered.

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