Banquet Eve · 170 lb
I told Zafira tonight, in front of the whole hall, that I want her chair. Seven banquets. The largest wins. She smiled and said she had already ordered the chair. I swayed my hips once, the way I do before I sit, and reached for a date.
I am a dancer. I know how to keep my footing. My coins lie flat, my chains fall over a narrow waist, and I am slim in a hall full of women who are not. That is about to change, and I intend to enjoy every change.
I wrote this by lantern light with honey on my fingers, which is why the ink has smeared. Nima says it improves the page. Nima is very kind. She also says a favourite should write down her first banquet before she forgets what it felt like to be slim. I will not forget, but I will keep the page.
The First Banquet · 260 lb
Idris announced dates, lamb and an innocent amount of honey. The honey was not innocent. My waistband gave up before the almond cakes arrived and I told the room it was a sensible beginning.
Nima brought one platter and said it now felt unambitious. The dishes were stacked up to the lantern by the end. I put both hands on my belly, felt it round out against my palms, and thought: this is a good start.
Zafira sent a message by her maid: a single date on a gold-rimmed saucer. I ate it with great ceremony in front of the maid, who laughed, and I told her to say I accepted.
The Second Banquet · 380 lb
Poor Qasim. The scale wanted more weights, and the box was empty. He told me he wanted another profession. I told him the ledger would forgive him. I stood on the platform with a piece of sesame bread and let it all be measured by appetite instead.
Then Zafira asked me to turn at the mirror. I turned slowly. I saw my hips in brass and my own half-smile, and I held it. My top had stopped lying flat, and I decided that was a compliment.
I practise my dancer's sway even now. It is slower, heavier, and it carries more of me, and the hall watches it the way it watches the lanterns. It is the best dance I have ever done.
The Third and Fourth Banquets · 520 lb
Nima fed me saffron rice by the spoonful and I told her to keep those victory bites coming. She did not hesitate. Idris said he announced three courses and I apparently heard three kitchens. I took that as praise.
The duck came glazed with pomegranate. My belly nudged the carved corner of the table, and my top asked for another row of coins. Zafira asked me to turn again, and I did, back to the room, chin over my shoulder. She said she might need another duck. Good.
Idris brought a spoon of everything and I did not need to ask. I rubbed my belly slowly while looking straight at my rival, and she lifted one eyebrow. We understand each other perfectly.
The Fifth Banquet · 720 lb
I held the rail tonight. I am not ashamed of it. Stuffed aubergines, buttered couscous, sweet cheese from Nima's spoon, and a belly that moves like the tide whenever I swallow. The sultan came to judge and I took a victory bite before he sat down.
He said he had been told seven banquets, not seven expanding provinces. His smile did not hide anything. Afterward Qasim measured the cedar doorway twice, and the doorway asked for a third. I told it to stand straighter.
My hip chains are buried in soft folds, and I have grown fond of how they glitter whenever I breathe. I told Qasim to write that in the ledger. He said the ledger is out of room.
The Sixth Banquet · 950 lb
They opened every leaf of the great table and added trestles. I do not think the palace has had to do that for one woman before. I stood at the rail and ate spiced beef and walnut rolls with clotted cream while the table creaked and a wooden peg clicked into place.
My belly is a wide, heavy thing now. It leans on the table when I breathe in. Idris called for a cleared kitchen. The sultan wondered aloud whether the seventh banquet would still fit in his palace. I stroked my belly in one slow circle and said nothing, because I did not need to.
I have not been this happy since I first danced for the court. Every plate is a step, every banquet a verse. I am the favourite of this palace, and I am becoming the largest of it too.
The Seventh Banquet · 1,100 lb
Lamb, rice, dates, cheese pastries, honey cakes. Steam in thin streams. I ate every platter, one swallow at a time, with my hand tight around the rail while my belly rose farther over the table's edge. My top held. The coins are far apart now and I am glad the thread is stubborn.
The victory chair has a seat barely wider than a serving platter. Zafira looked at it and called it a footstool. I told her to order a bigger one. She has already mastered small, and I have mastered everything else. Afterward we sat on the rug against silk cushions, bellies huge, laughing. The film shows all seven banquets. Come and see how it ends.
I will sleep tonight in a hall full of silk cushions and still-warm platters. I dream of a bigger chair. Zafira dreams of one too, and we have promised to share. Mostly.
Read the same story from the outside in Roxxana's weight gain story, or follow it stage by stage, 170 → 1,100 lb.