The universe in a constant state of flux. Everything is moving, changing, transforming; from the tiniest quark to the largest super cluster. There’s a sudden congestion, a momentary rather a bit persistent. That’s where my fear resides. Inside me, my very own body of which I was once proud off. I am expanding, layering, growing. Growing big, fat, obese. My heart thumped when the scale gauged a hundred kilos. I moved back, breathed, hunched my index finger, and gagged. I just couldn’t accept that bulk. I couldn’t breathe properly.

Pocrescophobia is what my therapist says. This pithy word itself gives me collywobbles, let alone the cheese burgers. I am drowning. Sinking into my own self. Deluding my own identity. I don’t want to be fat. Digits on the weighing scale pierce my eyes every time I mount on one. Conscious of my look. Fastidious of my worth. Mona, my mother, says, I am fit. She lies. They lie. I am not mad.

Author’s Note: Ah well! ^That was just an awkward glide of my pen. I am a foodie. I don’t go to the gym. And I don’t gain weight regardless of how much I eat. My friends envy me. But who cares. This is what my A level art portfolio was about, my fear of obesity. Using a plethora of mediums I made a series of eleven paintings depicting the story of a night. The layers of colors are well nuanced and rendered to perfection (narcissist alert). I used different bases to work on as well, which includes, textured paper, colored paper, wrappers of fast food chains, cloth, etc.  My paintings below are simultaneously displayed with my poetic vibe. Bear with it.



It was stark dark

 And I

 Was the only monarch

 My only leader

My only saviour

 Wrapped in a blanket


 A naked baboon

 felt so cozy

 Like a covered cocoon




 On the TV screen

 Which was then green

 It matched my walls

 As it stated

 Cloudy with a chance of meatballs





The hunger was feeding of me


I Decided to feed on it instead

 I dragged myself

To the fridge itself

 I reached

 My hands shook

With every step I took

 this mighty box

 Which was always locked

 By a cunning fox

Residing in my home

“My boy doesn’t binge”

“My boy isn’t obese”

 “My baby”

 Said Mona, my mother

 The pale light Shed its yellows and golds


 My eyes glistened

 they shone with mirth

 I found my treasure

 Felt as pirate

 Who embarked on a journey

To get the abandoned

 It was my precious

 There sprouted a havoc

To choose what

 Half eaten subs

Chewed fruits

 Fizz deprived drink


 my fingers wide

 I  reached

Reached for everything

 time ticking

 numbers falling

I could feel them in my ears

Tick tock

Tick tock

 I was an alien

 A frozen, Prussian creature

 My avatar had changed


As I arranged

 everything I could

Gather in my arms

 On the floor that glistened

As no one listened


With every bite I took

My head in content it shook

 I was sinking in to flavours

Drowning in an illusion

Of salt, sweet, bitter, sour

 And umami



Into an abyss



I woke up
To utter surprise
Drenched in patterns
Or checks which they call
They say I am mad
I hallucinate
Hamad can’t even
and they say, he does
I looked here
And there
Where am I?
I questioned
My dialogue


No one was there
Except the fridge
Mouth wide open
Food preyed like
They moved like
Spiders, serpents, slugs
They reached for me
Like evil bugs
What burger!?
What noodles!?
They were all animals
Or foodimals
As the movie said
The movie
Oh Tis a dream
And I licked the cream
From the edge of my lip
as the burger hit me
In the hip
Like a wrecking ball
Hit me deep down
The core
Slit was my hose
As the foodimals
Peel out
Move your buns
Run for your chive
Prepare to get served
They chanted
The food was consuming
Feeding off me
I ran
I ran
I ran
The sirens bellowed
I woke
My eyes wide
Tis a dream
Sweat ran down
My cheek as
I saw my fist clutching a leek


 Threw it there
I donot dare
To eat again
I am not obese
Mona says,
“My boy is fit”
All artworks in this article are the intellectual property of Hammad Ali. These images may not be downloaded, copied, linked to, or edited in any manner or form for use on any website, image gallery, clipart collection, printed product, or other derivative uses without express written permission from the artist.

About The Author

Hammad Ali: I’m a conflicting contradiction.
Timber by EMSIEN 3 Ltd BG