“May I untie it?” I nodded. As soon as Su-jin’s fingers undid the button of my wool skirt, my skin took a breath. Cool air tickled my abdomen, and in the dim gym mirror I bulged rounder than I had imagined. Su-jin laughed softly. “Guess you ate too much.”
At that moment, Min-jae stood in the doorway. Without a word he stared at my belly, then looked away. A chill, like frost settling over pupils, trembled beneath his eyelids. After that day, the messages stopped.
Fireflies Inside the Belly
The abdomen is the most treacherous terrain. It can lie flat for days, then, after a single over-indulgent meal, swell like moonlit surf. Who could have guessed this curve would become the switch that halts love?
Others speak of legs, breasts, hips, but the moment he vanishes is when the belly timidly reveals itself. Like an ancient mechanism guarding a secret, each glimmering layer of fat trembles and the mercury of desire quietly falls.
Line 2, 7:47 p.m.
Every evening, on the subway from Jongno to Seongsu, Yoon-ah met him. She never learned his name, yet whenever he stood he asked in a low voice, “Did you run again today?” She lied about going to a running club and pressed her arm against her stomach to hide the softness.
A month later, drunk, she asked him to share a taxi. Inside, he swallowed hard and unbuttoned her blouse. Each click exposed her belly like layers of onion skin.
“Could you roll the window down?” he suddenly asked the driver. Cold air rushed in. He never touched her belly. At the next stop he stepped out and never returned. That night Yoon-ah heated leftover kimchi-jjigae and thought, My body has killed someone.
Silence Born in a Locked Room
Why are we drawn to this imperfect curve yet terrified the instant it shows itself? Psychologist Andrea Spinelli coined “fat anxiety.” A protruding belly is at once a symbol of abundance and of chaos. The generous swell recalls a mother’s womb, an inner refuge, yet also seems the residue of ungovernable appetite. Men, unable to bear this double image, deny it.
Yet the truth rings backward: they are enchanted by that volume; they simply cannot endure the knowledge of their own enchantment. The moment a sliver of belly appears, they collide with the uncomfortable recognition: I am not desiring your body; I am desiring the ease I myself lack.
Department-Store Restroom, 3 minutes 42 seconds
Before her first date, Hye-jin propped a tripod in a store restroom and photographed her belly—front, side, back. She compared each 45-degree rotation, daubed ivory foundation into every crease, erased, redid, until tears threatened and she closed the toilet lid and sat.
That night the man ordered smoked duck. “Eat as much as you like; I prefer someone not too thin.” Hye-jin wanted to believe him. When she set down her spoon he handed her a napkin. “I think I’m coming down with something. Let’s meet another time.” His gaze skimmed her stomach and slid away.
Yes, you’re not sick; you’re afraid.
The Spiral Hidden Below the Navel
Through the belly we glimpse the other’s emptiness. As the abdomen swells, the other ceases to be a puzzle we might complete and becomes instead a vast hole that threatens to swallow us. So they flee—not because “I cannot indulge in you,” but from the despair of “You cannot fill me.”
Those who disappeared could not bear this despair and left our side. Yet this very despair is the true desire we hide behind our bellies.
Wasn’t it that you longed to be loved not for who I am, but for the part of me I cannot contain?
The Sound of the Door Closing
Each night the refrigerator opens and another layer settles on my stomach. I skip stretching, postpone the diet until tomorrow, and each time someone new vanishes.
Is the vanishing truly because of my belly? Or because I was caught hiding how deeply I wish to bury myself in another?
When the next person sees your belly, what expression will cross their face? Will you glimpse the self-loathing behind it? When the door closes, will you still blame your softness? Or will you realize that the one fleeing is not escaping you but the emptiness inside himself?