why do my hands look fat


A/N: I decided to make this all fluff just cause I really suck at smut so yeah! Also send me random questions in my ask box you want to know about me!

If any of you are dealing with low self-esteem, please remember that you are beautiful, and that I’m here if you need to talk😊

Dan’s POV

I kept staring into the mirror, unable to tear my eyes away. Why do I have so much fat on my stomach? Why can’t I be actually attractive? Why can’t I be good enough for Y/N?

I sigh, shake my head, and pad out to the kitchen where Y/N is, making tea. She turns around and smiles at me, looking beautiful as always. Even with my insecure thoughts plaguing my mind, I force a smile onto my face and say, “morning, love.”

“Morning!” She chirps in return. She hands me a cup of tea, and I kiss her on the cheek as a thanks, making her cheeks tint red. Adorable.

The rest of our day goes on as normal; it’s rainy and cold outside, a perfect excuse to stay inside all day. These days always consist of us watching a movie together, scrolling through our respective tumblr dashboards together, and little kissing sessions everywhere around the flat. However, about 16:30, one of our kissing sessions got slightly more heated.

It was simple. We were lying on the couch, Y/N on top of me, tracing patterns on my chest with her delicate fingers. She slowly inched her way up to my mouth, and we began to kiss. My tongue slipped into her mouth almost instantly, and the kisses became more passionate. A few minutes in, she snuck her hands under my jumper. I instinctively flinched, sitting up, taking her with me.

She frowned, and said, “Dan, are you okay?” I shook my head, “I’m fine. I’ll just… Be back.” I quickly got up and went into our bedroom, closing the door behind me. God I felt so bad about that. But I just couldn’t bring myself to be okay with my body, so how could Y/N? I take a shuddering breath as a tear trickles down my cheek. I slightly jump when I hear Y/N open the door cautiously.

She peeks her head in, but rushes in when she sees me sat on the bed with tears. “Babe, what’s wrong?” She takes a seat beside me, clutching onto my arm.

“S-sorry I did that,” I mutter. “I don’t care, Dan, just tell me what’s wrong,” she replies. How was I going to say this?

“Look Y/N, I don’t expect you to understand or anything…”

“Try me,” she says softly.

“I just… My body. It’s not great, or even good. I hate looking at myself in the mirror, it just aggravates me. I hate it all.”

She goes quiet for a moment before asking, “why would you think I wouldn’t understand?”

“Easy,” I say. “You’re beautiful, stunning. Perfect.”

“Well, Dan,” she begins, “I don’t see that in myself, but that’s what you think of me. I think you are incredible, handsome, and adorable, but you don’t see it in yourself. It’s human nature to think like that, but trust me in saying that I love you and your body so very very much.”

I look at Y/N adoringly, and say, “thank you, love. That means the world.” We both just smile at each other and cuddle in comfortable silence, at peace with the world and ourselves.

Why I Do This
  • Me: [buying pieces for my Supergirl cosplay] oh my god this is gonna turn out so bad
  • Me: [hand-sewing the emblem and the cape] no one is going to like it
  • Me: [putting on the costume] i'm too fat for this character, people are gonna heckle me
  • Me: [walking around Comic Con] i look so crappy why did i even bother i should just—
  • Little girl: [shuffling her feet, tugging lightly on my cape] Supergirl, can I please take a picture with you?
  • Me: [internally sobbing from sheer delight] Yes! Yes you can!
  • Little girl's dad: [takes photo]
  • Little girl: [hugs me around my legs, gently tugs on my cape so she can whisper in my ear] you've always been my favorite superhero!
  • Dad+Little girl: [walks away]
  • Sister: hey man, you okay there?
  • Me: that was the single most amazing moment of my life
Ex-Jock: Part 3

After several months of over-indulging in whatever I desired, I had definitely acquired the ex-jock look. My belly had rounded out quite a bit, and it constantly looked bloated and distended. Since moving in with Austin I put on 35 pounds. I was fully aware of my piggish ways, but being a larger guy actually made me feel more powerful and masculine. It felt nice. Austin, on the other hand was becoming increasingly irritated with me. Everything came to a head when he arrived home late one night and found me passed out naked on the couch with two roaches in the ash tray, an empty pizza box, almost a dozen empty beer bottles, and an empty pint of Ben & Jerry’s surrounding me.

“Jesus Christ you fat fuck!” He exclaimed, stirring me from my food coma. “Why don’t you do something with your life instead of eating me out of house and home! Jesus, look at you.”

“But… I didn’t eat breakfast,” was all I could think to say.

“Yeah, well you sure made up for it in beer, huh? Fuck, Calvin, have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re a butter ball! I’m embarrassed to take you anywhere with the way you spill out of those slutty clothes. Plus you pig out in front of all our friends like you’re a goddamn starving African child. Newsflash, you’re no longer poor and starving- go to the fucking gym!”

“Um have you looked in the mirror lately, Austin?” I was becoming increasingly incredulous. “You’re fatter than me. And you gulp down that expensive wine like it’s water. You’re being a fucking hypocrite, I thought it was about love not looks you superficial cunt.”

“Love can be pretty fucking difficult when your dick doesn’t want to go anywhere near your boyfriend’s flabby thighs!”

“I’m out of here,” I said and rolled off the couch.

“Good, go squeeze into some clothes so you can uber to McDonald’s.”

I packed my bags and went to my own apartment. I had a complete breakdown when I got home. I felt like an obese monster that no one would ever love. How could I let myself get this way? I knew I had gained weight, but why didn’t I care? None of the boys at the clubs looked like me. No one likes chubby guys. What was I thinking letting myself go like this? My brain was rattling with negative thoughts of self-hate for the rest of the night.

My house was cold and uncomfortable compared to Austin’s, plus my cabinets were bare. After a few hours my stomach began to growl. I decided to do exactly as Austin recommended and called an Uber to go to McDonald’s. I sat inside wearing a skin tight white tee and ate all my feelings away. I consumed two big macs and some fries in less than fifteen minutes. Then I ordered a large milkshake for the ride home and a few apple pies for breakfast in the morning. I was completely gluttonous and I hated myself for it.

Austin and I didn’t talk for the next few days, and when we did finally sit down together it was clear our relationship was over. I guess I just wasn’t fit to be a kept boy. He was kind enough to pay my rent four months in advance while I was looking for a job, plus he gave me $1500 in cash while I got back on my feet. It was time that I built a real life in Seattle, but it was al lot harder than it seemed. As days became weeks I grew increasingly unhappy. I really thought I was in love with Austin, and it was hard to accept that his love for me was superficial at best. These feelings led to some extreme comfort eating. I blew through most of the $1500 in a couple weeks before realizing I couldn’t continue eating the expensive food I had become accustomed to. In an effort to save money, I started on a new diet of fast food, pasta, and rice a roni. As a result, I was gaining weight faster than I ever had in my life.

My comfort eating was reaching new heights the longer I went without a job. I constantly had a bag of chips and a soda in hand- even while I was running errands around town. I started to outgrow my entire wardrobe. T-shirts no longer covered my softening belly. My ass ripped the pants of every pair of jeans I could still button. On two separate occasions I had the bottom button of dress shirts pop off in public. I finally resorted to wearing cheap Hane’s tees and gym shorts almost every day. I couldn’t afford nice clothes, and I would probably outgrow them anyway. Elastic waistbands were comfortable and didn’t constantly remind me of how fat I was becoming. I was officially a hairy chubby dude, a simple fact I had to accept. I figured this meant I should start going to bear bars.

24676) It’s official, I think I’ve hit rock bottom. I’m starting to think even my hands and fingers look fat, and those were the only things I thought looked even slightly skinny. I can’t do this anymore, I want out. Why do any of us have to deal with all of this shit?