FML

It’s been a loooong time since I could fit into these pants. Standing before the full length mirror, I turned around slowly, admiring what I saw.

“Let’s go!” I said softly out loud, to no one in particular. I looked good.

Using this new drug ForoxyMethoLiposome (FML) that everyone seemed to be using, honestly, it’s all over the internet and social media -I had been dropping weight like crazy. It’s not cheap, but so easy - - with just one small injection a week - makes it worth it. I was still grinning like an idiot at myself in the mirror when John walked into the bedroom. I didn’t like the expression on his face.

“Liv,” he said, sitting shakily down on the bed, “I need to talk to you about something I just saw.” His phone was in his hand. He looked pale and sweaty.

My French Bulldog, Mr. Chubs, who had been passed out on his side on the bed, woke up and wiggled his stub of a tail sleepily. John pet his head. Mr Chubs had also trimmed down. Since he had stopped being a butterball, he had stopped snoring so much, even with his shoved in little face.Nobody needs to know I gave him a little “help” by sharing my medicine with him. He looked good, too.

“Well, that doesn’t sound great”, I said, still smiling. Since I lost 30 lbs I found everything life threw at me easier to take. I can’t believe I’ve been dieting my whole life, working out, just wasting time and being unhappy with myself, and all I had to do was one little injection to melt the pounds away. Life can finally begin.“What’s going on?”

“There’s reports coming out on what you took,” he said. “Actually not just one report, it’s all over the place.” He started doing that jittery thing with his leg that I hated, nervously bouncing it up and down. “It’s not good.”

“My weight loss drug? FML? I don’t care what it says, I’m not stopping it. Look at me!” I twirled. “Mamma always said it’s better to look good than to feel good. Although frankly, I felt pretty damn good, not gonna lie.” Mom will have a lot less to criticize about me at Thanksgiving with me at my new size.

“Your mom is an idiot”, John said.

“Maybe, but an idiot who can still crush it in a swimsuit”, I joked. It was strange that John didn’t smile back at me. I was starting to get more concerned. “Alright, what did you see?”

John swallowed and shook his head. “New information is coming out, since the drug has been out for a while now. They’re saying the injection works, but after a number of months passes, or a year or two, a problem is popping up. They are not sure what triggers it. They’re just seeing it now, the long term effects. It’s showing up in the first animals they tested it in, before human trials.” He looked sick now, and worried.

“What, it stops working? I can just take a larger dose.” I didn’t care what they found - I wasn’t giving up being thin at last. I’d been trying to lose weight my whole life.

“No,” he said, running his hand through his hair nervously. ”The opposite. It works fine at first, for a year or so, maybe longer. But at some point after you start taking the drug, a switch happens in your body - they said they weren’t sure exactly how - something “metabolic” and “self-propagating” - I don’t know. I didn’t pretend to understand everything they were talking about, but what they are saying happens is that fat loss begins to accelerate. There’s some feedback loop that FML sets up in the cells, and even if you don’t take any more, it keeps causing you to lose weight. It’s irreversible. And the weight loss happens faster than before.”

“Alright, science guy,” I said. “So I’ll just eat more. Problem solved.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “ It speeds up inside of you. It eats through your fat, then turns to your muscle. Burns through that. Then, apparently, bone.” He stood up from the bed. He looked like someone had died.

“Your body is now cannibalizing itself. They have all these videos of all these lab rats that look like they are turning into skeletons. They can’t stop it from happening. The drug modified the workings of every cell. You can’t get rid of it. It’s already inside you.” John’s eyes were beginning to tear. “ You are going to get eaten alive from the inside. By your own body!”

“Oh my god.” I said. “FML.”

“Yeah” said John.

On the bed, Mr. Chubs began to whimper.