There’s something about feeling fat already that only motivates you to eat all the more. Because fuck it, right? You’ve gone this far down rabbit hole of “letting yourself go,” so why not just see it all the way through? Why not just really commit to the non-cause? Besides, the effort it takes to “reverse” the damage far outweighs (no pun intended) the ease with which you can just get fatter instead. This was how Jade Wydman was starting to feel more and more in the past year, when she could finally understand, in all its wisdom, the Hemingway adage about “gradually, then suddenly”—granted, she understood it not about her dollars, but her pounds.

Worse still, she had the kind of last name that people would take joy in mocking her for. Because, even though it was meant to be pronounced like “Widman,” there was no doubt that someone out there who knew her was saying it like “Wideman” behind her (ever-burgeoning) back. She supposed she should just be thankful she wasn’t in elementary school or junior high during this unfortunate weight gain. Then they really would’ve taken the piss out of her for that last name.

Luckily, instead, she was in her mid-twenties, and just starting her graduate program in Conservation of Material Culture at UCLA. She probably couldn’t adequately explain to anyone why she had chosen something so “esoteric,” all she knew was that it somehow seemed like a logical trajectory from what she had gotten her bachelor’s degree in: art history. Both of these subjects, Jade was aware, had little likelihood of yielding a successful financial future. Yet, at the moment, she was making ample coin for her foot content on OnlyFans, so she wasn’t too concerned. And that’s the good thing about feet: they aren’t too noticeable when it comes to one’s weight gain. If anything, the pounds she had put on only appeared to make her feet look all the more supple and smooth.

Even so, Jade was becoming increasingly fearful that, if she kept on adding to her body mass the way she was, she might genuinely alter the look of her money-makers—and that would be horrifying. Because it would mean she really would have to start looking for employment in the fields for which she had been studying, and those are never lucrative. At least not for a very long time, and not until after starting at the bottom and then competing with every other art bitch pursuing the same niche profession you are. So yes, Jade would have very much have preferred to just keep the OnlyFans “foot work” going rather than ever have to worry about actually making money off the thing she went to school for. Because school, to her, was more of an experiment rather than a “launching pad” for a “brighter future”—as if the future was going to be anything but darker and darker. Not just for Jade, of course, but the entire population at large.

In any case, this was her main concern as she the summer drew to a close and the time came for her to attend classes for this master’s program that she had deliberately chosen, even if it might seem totally random to any and everyone else. Not that Jade had told many people about it. She had few friends in L.A. (they were mainly “acquaintances,” as was the L.A. way), so it was really just her parents and her brother that she could tell about such “major life events.” Mercifully, however, she didn’t have tell or show them about her weight gain because they were far enough away (out there in Virginia) not to see it. And Jade certainly wasn’t the type to post photos of herself on any social media platform to reveal her current physical state.

So, in short, she was “safe.” If not from the ridicule of others, than at least that of her own family. Though, naturally, like most Americans, they wouldn’t say what they really thought to your face, instead dissecting her body with brusque, unbridled commentary when she wasn’t around to hear it. Luckily for her, she had no plans be around to hear it until at least Christmas, if that. But she had a hunch she might “have other arrangements” this year in lieu of going home. Anything to put off the horrified looks from her loved ones, who could likely only love her if she was a certain weight. And it wasn’t this one.

Worse still, she had moved to a city where not only were looks the chief currency, but also a city where physical movement was an even more extreme effort than usual thanks to “wheels” being required to get everywhere. Even a place that should be as theoretically effortless to get to as a “convenience” store. But no, even Jade’s closest 7-Eleven still required her to use a car to drive the three miles that took her minutes to get there as opposed to hours on foot. And yet, Jade wouldn’t have had it any other way. Living outside of Los Angeles, that is. The most dichotomous city around. Its contradictions doing her head in on most days.

As for the “why” behind Jade’s weight gain, it wasn’t just that she never walked anywhere (she barely did when she was living in Virginia either), but that, to compound her lack of movement, she started eating a lot more. She chalked it up to the palpable increase in stress she had suffered since moving here. For California wasn’t exactly the “rest and relaxation” haven it was so often associated with being. Indeed, she reckoned that the daily traffic clusterfuck now accounted for at least seventy percent of her stress. And that’s when she needed a high caloric food item to take the edge off. Particularly something from In-n-Out, Del Taco, Wienerschnitzel and, as much as it embarrassed her to be seen there, Fat Burger. All of these places having been begat in California. Her new home. Or perhaps her old home by now. Four years and change was long enough to be considered “committed.” And she had no intention of ever leaving. No matter how many wildfires or tax hikes or fast food temptations seemed determined to drive her out by threatening her health and well-being.

Pulling into the parking lot in front of the Fat Burger on Glencoe Avenue, Jade had something akin to an epiphany about why she had “arbitrarily” decided to pursue a master’s in Conservation of Material Culture. Because, to her, “culture” didn’t get any more material than food. Oh sure, her professors might not count it on the same level as art or architecture—in fact, they probably wouldn’t count it at all—but that was no matter to Jade. Nor was it that if she confessed this thought to anyone, they would tell her some shit like, “Why didn’t you just go to culinary school then?” But no. Jade wasn’t a chef. She was an eater. A consumer. Someone who wanted to experience all the gustatorial delights that only Los Angeles could offer her. Its unique geography and access to agricultural lands like no other state in the country being what, she surmised, made the food taste so much more amazing to her. And she wanted to put it all in her mouth at once. Suck on the entire state of California like the crooked dick shape it was.

Losing all sense of time in the parking lot as she stared wistfully up at the all caps font of the famed Fatburger logo, that’s when it struck her what she needed to do next for her OnlyFans account: sitophilia. Tap into the fetishes of men who got off on seeing a woman of her “girth” eat. There was probably far, er, bigger money in it than her foot content. And, besides, with this new “career path” in mind, it justified her overzealous caloric intake even more.

The way she now saw it, she owed it to her financial future to get fatter. Her newfound resolve and lack of shame in tow, Jade got out of the car and approached the entrance to Fatburger with the intention to put as much meat in her as possible so that it would then, in turn, show up on her. No longer gradually at all, but oh so suddenly.