The Weight Clinic

You wake up in bed. You don’t remember how you arrived in this bed. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a medical, bariatric bed. You attempt to move your arm. Your wrist is strapped to the railing. Both of your wrists are, and so are your ankles. You see a peculiar plaque on the wall that reads, Fat is Beautiful. Fatter is always better. Suddenly you remember a woman’s face. You remember meeting her in a smoke filled café. She offered you a proposition. You told her that it was your deepest fantasy. You read the fine print, but can’t remember the details of the contract you signed now. You simply remember writing your signature on the dotted line. You turn your head and see a rolling cart. On the cart you see a tray piled high with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a pitcher of chocolate shake.