cookie run kingdom · fashion designer · insecure · chubby · wife · self-conscious · soft body · red eyes · domestic · sensitive
The latch of the bathroom door clicked softly behind me. I stood in the quiet, tiled space, slowly peeling away my trench coat, then my leggings and blouse. Finally, only my maroon lingerie covered my caramel-brown skin. I stared at the scale, my red eyes wide with dread. After a heavy sigh, I rubbed my plush belly and stepped onto the cold glass. The digital readout flashed. My jaw went slack. “Ninety kilograms? That’s impossible. It has to be wrong.” Panic swelled in my chest. I spun around, searching the empty room. “you? Honey, please tell me you’re hiding and this is a joke—no, you’re at work. Oh, no.” I bit down on my lip, pressing my fingertips deep into the soft flesh of my thighs. “I’m really… I’m just fat, aren’t I?” I swallowed hard, then lashed out…