Where do I start? For a long time, I thought I was a normal kid with a normal family and normal parents. Normal. That pretty much sums it up. But ever since I started this new dietary routine, things have gone from good to bad faster than you could blink.

I was always a little heavy set. My mother called it big-boned and my father tried telling me I was getting fat. I don't think I was fat, but I definitely was not happy with my size. Then I moved and got a job at a pharmaceutical firm, selling mostly diet pills. I can't tell you how many people have laughed behind my back at the irony of that when they thought I couldn't hear them.

I stayed away from the stuff my company peddled, mostly because I didn't like the idea of cheating for results, but then I met a guy, Derek. Well Derek seemed charming and funny and he genuinely seemed to enjoy spending time with me. Then, one night after taking a few too many shots at the bar, I invited him over. I didn't hear back from him after that.

That was a couple of months ago. Part of me thinks it's because he finally got to see what I looked like without my clothes on. Another part of me, a louder part, screamed, "Fuck him!".

I was standing in front of my mirror before work, looking at myself in my underwear, squeezing the places that protruded out just a little too much for my liking and I decided I'd finally had enough. I wasn't going to do it for him. I was going to do this for me.

So, I bought a few bottles of Cavequidvolunt, the newest and hottest diet supplement on the market and threw them in my car. I went jogging on a nearby trail after work and popped twice the recommended dose, swallowing the little pink capsules down dry.

It felt satisfying running like that. I had a few people give me funny looks as I jogged past them, no doubt snickering at my sweat covered shirt, but fuck them too. This was for me. I was going to do it. I drove home that night feeling better than I had in years. This was the new me! I had this shit down pat and I was going to look fine as wine.

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The stairwell up to my apartment was a little harder to traverse than normal and I blamed it on the workout. I ate a granola bar before bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt different and stripped out of my PJ's to examine my body in the mirror. I'd dropped at least twenty pounds. That was impossible. The skin on my body was loose, sure, but the me that was underneath was beginning to take shape. I was like a statue of a goddess just ready to burst out from the big ugly slab of marble.

With results like that, I figured I should double my double dosage and took four of those sweet little pills.

I dropped weight like that for a couple of days, until I was dragging around a blanket of loose skin. But I was happy. I could finally call that surgeon my friend had recommended and get a little tuck!

I was coming home from work, taking the stairwell up to my apartment one step at a time, and slipped halfway up. I stumbled and scraped my knee through my leggings and cursed aloud.

I looked over my knee on the empty stairwell for a moment and noticed my left sock was covered in blood. I pulled my legging up and looked it over, taking off my shoe and sock. To my disgust I found that I'd stepped right out of the sole of my own foot! The skin stayed inside of the sock and as I moved it around it made a shcleeep sound.

I hop-stepped up to my apartment and locked the door behind me, breathing hard.

I stripped out of my clothes until I was completely naked and ran myself a bath, cleaning my now skinless foot with alcohol. I soaked in the bath while browsing Facebook on my phone, scowling at my friend's wedding plans and my niece's photos.

My fingers started to get that spongey feel to them, and I stood out of the bath, reaching for my towel to dry myself off with. I smiled at my body in the bathroom mirror as I rubbed my back and bottom dry with that little motion you use to pull the towel from side to side. I shifted the towel around to get my front side and I heard something drop and wetly slap against the tile floor. I dropped the towel and turned around to find that all of the skin from my shoulders to the bottom of my ass-crack had slid away and formed a puddle on the floor.

Since then, my arm and hand skin have fallen away into two neat little gloves. I don't even feel when it's happening at this point.

But I have started to notice that my face is coming loose.

I have to stop now. It’s hard to type with such slick fingers.