Hidden Troubles

5 | Paranoia and Perfection

Loki knew enough about trying to lose weight. Long ago, the Warriors Three, Thor and he had tried to get Volstagg on a diet. With their common sense and Loki's additional research combined, they'd figured out a plan to slim the food-loving warrior down.

It had barely lasted an hour.

Still, he'd somehow retained that information from all those centuries ago. He knew enough.

He attempted one day at fasting, which hastily went to waste with a late night binge on PopTarts. He'd spent most of the day staring at the ceiling in his room and then mindlessly walking around, and had soon found himself in the kitchen, and then carrying away two boxes of PopTarts. With his one week dismissal from work to fully recover, it had been far too easy for him to succumb to the sugary cravings. It seemed his more human body meant he had a human level resistance to certain urges— as a god his self control had always been at its peak.

By the morning, he felt even more disgusted with himself. Even heavier. Fatter. But even more determined. If this was to be done, it was to be done properly. He spent a week just eliminating snacks and scaling down his portion sizes. Three days in, and Loki thought he could see some difference. He wasn't hungry either so he reasoned he was eating the correct amount now, rather than overeating as he'd done before.

He'd switched to wearing larger sized clothing— the discarded attire from Stark and Rogers. This self-consciousness about his body had destroyed his already low self-esteem and he wanted to cover it up until he was satisfied with himself and his weight.

However by the end of the week, he was still unhappy with himself. The pouch over his stomach had gone, but he could still see the layers of fat everywhere, the imperfections. How he still felt heavier than before.

Just carry on for a bit longer.

It's not so hard.

Just until you're perfect.

The voice had grown during the week, encouraging him, making sure he didn't binge or eat more than he should. With the absence of actual physical company, the voice in his head was a welcome presence. It filled the comfort Thor used to bring enough. It wasn't the same, but enough.

Tomorrow would be his first day back at his punishment. Back to the hate-filled glares from strangers that knew not of what he had done. He dimmed the lights in his room and slipped in between the sheets of his bed. He stretched his slender fingers out in front of him— they'd healed well, and apart from occasional aches they were as good as they were before. Loki soon sank into a fitful sleep, of quiet nightmares that tortured his mind all the way into the morning.

***

Slowly but surely, over the next couple of weeks Loki integrated himself back into his former routine, under the watchful eye of whichever Avenger had been assigned to him for the day. Sorting through supplies, lifting heavy crates to certain places, the manual labour was dull yet tough. Loki found himself collapsing into bed after the day's exhaustive tasks, sweaty and disgusting, before forcing himself to shower and sleep.

In terms of meals, Loki started off simple. Decreasing his servings during dinner and lunch and he would soon be back to a satisfactory weight. However a few days into his new diet and he found he wasn't getting any results. There seemed to be no change in his appearance. From then on, he decided that lunch was no longer necessary. Why have lunch when you already have breakfast and dinner?

Why not cut out your breakfast too? The voice said, a few days after the new change. And so he had done. By the end of the two weeks, his routine was as follows: wake up at 7, shower, water for breakfast, work, shower, sleep. His stomach constantly growled in demand for food, but he refused to cave. Just until you're satisfied, the voice said, just until you're perfect. Let's not ruin any progress, shall we?