Trevor looked down at his belly and frowned.
He couldn’t see the scale underneath. He had to lean forward, and even then could he only just catch a glimpse of the number.
He sighed. The same as yesterday.
He had cut down drastically on what he ate. He barely had the energy anymore to walk, but walk he did. Every day. Up and down the street, in circles, around and around. Everywhere he could. He sat often, catching his breath. He thought about a snack, then stopped himself, knowing he couldn’t.
And the number stayed the same.
Trevor sighed, wishing he could make them drop. He had been to the doctor, had been to the gym, and talked to people in support groups and health forums. And still the numbers were the same, his belly the same, the disgusted looks from passersby the same. He sighed.
Walking out to the kitchen, Trevor looked at his daily diet regimen. He took the pen, crossed off most of his dinner, and returned to the bathroom.
Maybe this will help, he thought. He hoped. He wondered.