The Doctor braced for the impact his comment might have. No human woman would like being told she was getting fat, no matter how delicately and well intentioned the teller was.
Amy took another bite, chewing it slowly. She shook her head, her cheeks full, her eyes vacant, and her toned annoyed.
"What are you even talking about?"
She seemed to sincerely be unaware of the news that she was significantly heavier than she had been mere weeks, even days, before. The Doctor wobbled on his feet and began again.
"Well, it happens sometimes that even a woman of your, er, thinness, can be taken off guard by . . . changes like . . . this."
Amy released a tiny burp between chews, her expression growing both more confused and more frustrated. She tugged on her ever-tightening shirt. It used to be one of her larger sweaters, hiding her slim figure. Now it merely emphasized her lovehandles, and clung tightly across her softening stomach. The Doctor looked Amy up and down. Surely she wouldn't completely ignore the issue when brought up so gently.
"See, when you take in calories-"
She threw up a hand and shook her head, forcibly dismissing him.
"Not in the mood for these alien riddle mind games, Doctor." She walked past him. The Doctor, stunned, confused, but mostly curious, turned to watch her now soft ass as she brushed by. "When you have something-" much munch munch "-important to say then we'll talk."
"Huh."
Was Amy genuinely oblivious to her gain? Impossible, the Doctor thought. She was a pound away from ripping even the loosest of her clothes. For a girl as thin as she used to be surely she must notice how everything was getting bigger and softer, from her wide, wavering hips to her round, swollen belly to her equally puffy face. The poor girl must have put on twenty, thirty pounds at the least. Denial could be powerful, but that powerful?
Or, perhaps . . .
The Doctor aimed his sonic screwdriver at her. Perhaps there was something more than simple psychology and overeating at work here. It flashed and whirred, revealing--