He had to lean forward a bit to see the result past the curve of his stomach, and the readout wobbled wildly for a moment (the scale was a classic-style one with a dial) before stabilizing at an even 250. John couldn't resist letting out a low whistle and rubbing his middle ruefully; that was a definite increase from his last reading of 240. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stepped on the scale, exactly, but he knew that it hadn't quite been a couple of months. 10 pounds in less than 2 months was hard for him to believe.
Of course, the fact that until he turned 40 two years ago the scale had sat steadily at 170 with no real variation made believing it a little easier. He did a some mental math, and gave his middle another rueful pat when he realized he'd gained 80 pounds in only two years. His father's words echoed in his mind again.
'My metabolism bottomed out faster than I would eat your Grandma Priscilla's fried chicken and I blew up like a balloon!'
Sighing again, he stepped off the scale and headed into the bedroom to dress. Rosa had laid out a pair of khaki slacks and a white button-up shirt for him, with the purple tie she'd bought him last Christmas to go with them.
He put the shirt on first, and determinedly didn't think about how he had to give the buttons around his midsection a little extra tug to get them to meet. The shirt felt a little snug once he had it on, but not so much as to be uncomfortable.
The pants posed a more serious problem: He had to put actual effort into pulling them up over his thickening thighs, and for a moment he wasn't certain he'd be able to pull them over his rear at all, but a couple of undignified hops helped him finish the job (and he grumbled internally at this proof that not only was his waistline spreading, but his butt was getting bigger too). The real trouble, though, came when it was time to button them: No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn't get the pants to close. Grumbling, he took a deep breath and sucked in his stomach before trying again. "Huurk!" He grunted, straining to bring the button closer to it's hole. He succeeded, but there was still a good quarter inch preventing button and clasp from uniting. He grunted again, and strained hard enough that he'd have been red in the face if not for his dark skin tone before letting out his breath with a gasp and a muffled curse.
"John!" He heard Rosa call from downstairs, "Breakfast is ready!"
That put a new urgency into getting dressed. Already salivating at the thought of Rosa's excellent cooking, he sat down on the edge of the bed, then fell backwards to lie on his back. Taking another deep breath, he sucked in his stomach and arched his hips slightly before trying to bring button to buttonhole again.
This time he was successful, and he let out his breath in a gasp of relief that rapidly turned to a grunt of discomfort. The pants were uncomfortably tight (unsurprising considering the amount of effort required to button them in the first place), and when he tried to stick his first two fingers through the waistband as a test he couldn't get more than the tip of his finger into the space where his body ended and the pants began. He started to pick up his belt, but decided against it; he had a feeling he wasn't going to be needing it today.
"John!" Rosa called again.
"Coming, honey!" He called back, flipping up his shirt collar and tying his tie at record speed. Slipping his feet into his shoes without untying them (which Rosa would berate him for if she saw) he hurried down the hall towards the kitchen.
Leonard and JJ were already sitting at the table, while Rosa was at the sink washing the skillet. The table held a spread of scrambled eggs, grits, bacon, sausage, and biscuits with a jar of strawberry jelly. "Mm-mm," he said in anticipation, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek as he picked up the mug of coffee she had waiting for him on the counter. "You've outdone yourself, baby. Can tell jus' by looking."
"Thank you, John-John," she said, turning her head to give him a return peck. At the table, JJ snorted as he viciously tore off a chunk of bacon.
"Don't be too flattered, Ma," he mumbled, just loud enough for John to hear. "He'll eat anything if it sits still long enough."
"Got to keep my strength up," John said smoothly, even as a flicker of irritation ignited in the back of his mind. If he'd ever talked to his father like that he'd have been boxed across the ears before he could blink, but he and Rosa only used corporal punishment as an absolute last resort. Besides, John had been a teenager, once, and he knew that refusing to give JJ the rise he was looking for would be more frustrating for the boy anyway.
"Keep your weight up, you mean," JJ mumbled again, and a muscle in John's jaw twitched.
'Last resort,' he reminded himself even as he pulled out a chair and sat at the table. 'Last resort.' Then he turned his mind to more pleasant things: like the excellent breakfast Rosa had cooked.
He started with the scrambled eggs, filling a good third of his plate with a heaping pile. Then he added some grits, stirring in a generous spoonful of brown sugar from the bowl on the table. Six slices of bacon and a matching number of sausage pieces rounded out his plate, and he topped things off with two biscuits that he stuffed full of jelly. Rubbing his hands with anticipation, he picked up his fork and dug in.
It took John very little time to inhale the entire contents of his plate, and Rosa had just finished the dishes and sat down for her breakfast when he reached across the table for his usual second helping. He paused to let his wife fix her own breakfast plate, then resumed assembling another heaping plate. Another helping of eggs (somewhat smaller this time, to make room for more grits), a portion of grits twice the size of his last (with three times the amount of brown sugar stirred in), 4-pieces each of sausage and bacon (there wasn't much left and he wanted to leave some for everyone else if they wanted any), and another couple of jelly-stuffed biscuits.
By the time he finished his second helping everyone else had already finished, and the table had mostly been cleared. "Anybody gonna eat that?" He asked as he pointed at the last drab of grits. When everyone shook their heads he cheerfully spooned it onto his own plate and quickly stowed it away in his stomach with the rest of his breakfast. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he leaned back in his chair.
"Mm-mm, that sure was good Ros-uuuurp!" His younger son giggled at the startled expression he gave at the unexpected burp, even as his older son rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"Daddy," Leonard chided once he'd stopped giggling. "You forgot to say 'excuse me!'"
"Indeed he did," Rosa said, giving him a pointed stare as she sipped her coffee. "John?"
"Excuse me," he said quickly, thumping his chest. Rosa was a stickler for manners, and he was no safer from her wrath than the boys if he crossed one of her lines. "Thank you for reminding me, Leonard." He turned to Rosa. "And thank you for cooking such a delicious meal, Rosa," he patted his belly in appreciation. His wife's eyes softened, then widened as a loud honk came from outside.
"The school bus!" She cried, leaping out of her chair and grabbing two brown paper bags off the counter even as JJ and Leonard hustled towards the door to grab their backpacks. She handed each of the boys their lunch and gave them a kiss on the forehead (though JJ dodged and threw her a dirty look even as he darted out the door) then turned towards her husband. "Shouldn't you be getting on the road as well?"
He checked his watch and nodded. "Yes, I should." He pulled his chair back and stood, pausing a moment to swipe the last piece of bacon off the table and pop it into his mouth. "See you at the school at..." he hesitated, searching his memory.
"5:00," Rosa prompted, tapping the wall calender hanging next to the door, on which the time had been written.
"Right," he said after he swallowed. "5:00." He grabbed the last biscuit as well, for the road, took the thermos of coffee Rosa had set on the counter for him, and headed out the door for work.
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