It's Just A Diet

Well, Fuck.

"Dude, really?"

Dylan looked up at George with a confused look, popping a cool ranch Dorito in his mouth and swallowing before he responded. "What?"

George scoffed. "You just ate, dude."

Dylan glared back, feeling a little offended. "So? I'm still hungry." He practically snarled.

"You had half a large pizza! How the fuck could you be hungry?!" George threw his hands in the air out of exasperation.

Jorel looked over to the arguing duo. "Dude, you need to stop eating so much, you're getting fat."

Dylan nearly dropped his bag of chips out of surprise. "What?"

He knew that he'd been a glutton lately, but fat? He'd never gained weight in his life, no matter what he ate. Though his pants had been getting a little tight recently....

Jorel snickered, walking up to Dylan. He grabbed Dylan's stomach, jiggling it for emphasis while snickering. "I'm surprised you can still get in your jeans. Have you weighed yourself recently?"

Dylan resisted the urge to slap Jorel for the remark. "Uhh..." He started thinking, trying to remember the last time he'd seen a scale, but couldn't. It had been at least a year.

George tisked. "There's a scale in the bathroom, under the sink." He said, looking annoyed.

Dylan rolled his eyes, but got up anyway, abandoning his precious Doritos in the back lounge of the bus. "Fine, I'll go check. Just to shut you guys up." He said, with fake venom in his voice. Truth was, he was more worried about what the scale would say than George and Jorel's teasing.

The bathroom was right near the front of the tour bus. Dylan pawed around under the sink for a half minute before unearthing the scale. He pulled it out, setting it right in front of the mirror, before stepping on.

225 pounds.

Well, that didn't mean anything, right? Sure, it was at least 30 pounds higher than he'd ever weighed, but Dylan was just a big guy. He was 6'6", for fuck's sake! Tall guys are supposed to weigh more.

Dylan thought it over for a minute before pulling out his phone, deciding to look up his BMI just in case.

26. Shit, overweight was 25.

Suddenly, Dylan wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, he felt sick. How could he let himself go like this?

Dylan walked out of the bathroom in defeat, not even bothering to put away the scale. He crawled into his bunk, not wanting to face George and Jorel. As soon as Dylan pulled his curtain shut, a hand snagged it and pulled it back open.

Fucking George. Why did he have to bother him? Hadn't he done enough?

"So, it was bad, huh?" George said, judging immediately by the half depressed, half angry look on Dylan's face.

"Leave me alone." Dylan muttered, trying to pull the curtain closed again.

George kept it open. "Dude, it's okay. It's not being fat will kill you." He said dismissively. "Don't be a girl about it."

Oh, fuck him. Dylan slapped George's hand as hard as he could, causing George to curse and let go of the curtain, then shut it and buried his face in his pillow.

George muttered a few choice words before sulking off, finally leaving Dylan alone. After a few minutes of self pity, the Mexican rolled onto his back and started looking up ways to lose weight fast on his phone.

Dylan ended up scrolling through a pro-anorexia blog by accident in a matter of minutes. He knew that these tips weren't a good idea, but that didn't stop him from reading.

Geez, this chick was crazy. 400 calories a day? That was practically starvation!

But as crazy as this bitch was, she got Dylan thinking. He needed to lose at least 30 pounds, and he wanted to lose it fast. Surely eating that little wouldn't hurt him if he just did it for a month or so, right?

Well, maybe not 400 calories. After all, he was much bigger than the girl running the blog, both in height and weight. Maybe 1000 calories a day, just to start?

Briefly, Dylan considered not doing it. The guys would get pissed if they caught him not eating, after all.

Dylan snickered, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. Who cared what anyone else thought? Dylan was fucking 30 years old, he could do whatever he wanted with his own body. It wasn't like he was going to hurt himself, either, it was just a diet. What harm could it do?

Suddenly, someone pulled back his curtain again. Jorel. Dylan quickly put his phone away, not wanting Jorel to suspect anything.

"Hey man, I'm sorry about earlier." Jorel said, as Dylan forced himself not to roll his eyes. "We're all going out to the bar, do you want to come?"

Dylan shook his head. He wanted to, really, but he knew he shouldn't. Alcohol and bar food wouldn't exactly help him lose weight, and he knew that he needed to commit right away to dieting if he wanted to succeed.

"Alright then. See you later." Jorel looked at Dylan with a bit of confusion, before chalking Dylan's refusal up to what had happened earlier. He closed the curtain, then walked off.

Dylan rolled back onto his stomach, yawning. A quick glance at his phone told him the time: 11:46. He decided to just go to sleep, instead of his usual browsing-online-until-2-am.

After all, Dylan thought as he closed his eyes and drifted off, he had a lot of work ahead of him.