"I...I don't know!" said Emma helplessly. "I mean, I'm getting heavier, aren't I?"
"I've noticed a little extra weight," grinned Daniel as he looked approvingly at her hips, "And I think it's super hot...but growing height-wise? Come on, Emma -- we both know that doesn't happen at our ages. So just...relax and have a nice time tonight, ok?"
"O-ok," she said, blushing as she forced a smile. She felt stupid for even making any kind of deal out of what was bothering her internally. And she did have a nice time at the restaurant, which was a lavish, almost over-the-top experience that had her and Daniel grinning at each other from across the white-clothed table, like they were almost embarrassed to be treated to such opulence. For all intents and purposes, it was a lovely anniversary dinner.
But even still, internally-speaking, Emma could not keep her anxiety under control. She smiled and laughed and joked and blushed, all genuinely, but inside, she was beginning to notice how things were "off" more and more. To begin with, her appetite just seemed to have kept increasing. She found herself forcing herself to eat the courses more slowly, so that Daniel wouldn't notice how hungry she was. Her nice dress, which she had last worn at a Christmas party months before, was feeling uncomfortably tight. And her heels, well...as soon as they were sat at the restaurant, Emma had taken advantage of the floor-length white tablecloth and quietly kicked her heels off, feeling a rush of relief as she flexed her toes under the table. There was no doubt that the heels had become too small for her feet.
That night, after they got home, and after Daniel had fallen asleep (which he did every night within five minutes of his head hitting the pillow), Emma slid out of bed and crept into the bathroom. She stepped on the scale...148.7. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. What was happening to her!? She had gained more than 10 pounds...verging on 15...in less than a week! Taking care to move quietly, she snuck out of the master bedroom area and into the pantry. She turned on the light and looked up at the top shelf, where Daniel kept his toolbox. Unsurprisingly at his point, Emma found that she was able to reach the toolbox by standing on her tiptoes -- she didn't even need the stepladder like she used to. She took out the long, metallic measuring tape, fumbling with it clumsily for a moment. It made a loud, silvery clanging sound, and Emma paused a moment, her heart beating madly, as she listened for signs of Daniel waking up. She certainly didn't want him to find her in here like this, measuring herself in the middle of the night like a crazy person. Thankfully, he was a deep sleeper, and hadn't seemed to have heard.
She stood up against the doorway, standing as straight as she could as she measured herself. She put her finger where she felt the top of her head was against the measuring tape, and stood back to look at it, with her heart hammering away in her chest.
69 inches...no...a little more...like 69.25 or so....that was...that was just over 5'9! Emma's anxiety deepened, and her heart didn't slow down. She was...growing!? She was actually getting taller!?! Emma hurriedly put the tape measure away and clutched her chest, as she felt the blood rushing through her ears. It felt like her throat was starting to close up. She backed into the pantry door, leaning heavily against it, as she closed her eyes and hummed to herself, silently willing her mind and body away from an impending panic attack. After a few minutes of quiet breathing exercises, she felt herself come away from the brink.
It was stupid...of course she wasn't getting taller. Sure, maybe she was gaining some weight, but that was only natural for women as they got a little older, right? All of this was natural, surely...and of course her height measurement had been off. Come on, a tape measure and a doorway? She suddenly got the idea to make an appointment with Dr. Hartman. Yes! Of course! That was it! That was the way to go...he could weigh and measure her officially, and do some tests, and just...make sure that everything was ok. It was for her peace of mind, more than anything. Emma felt reassured as she turned off the pantry light and crept back into bed, feeling almost proud of herself for not giving in to her anxiety.
The next morning, she made an appointment with Dr. Hartman, and a day and a half later, she was in his office. During the day and half that had elapsed, Emma had tried her best to ignore everything that she had been noticing before -- her increased height and weight, her increased appetite, the tightness of her clothes and shoes...everything. Dr. Hartman would put all this right -- he would tell her what was going on.
"Ok, so, it looks like you're 153.1 pounds," said Dr. Hartman, typing the number into his computer database.
"And that's like...almost 20 pounds more than I weighed a week and a half ago," said Emma, doing her best to keep her voice normal.
"Hmmm, and you've had unexplained increased appetite?" asked Dr. Hartman.
"Yes."
"Well, that clearly explains the weight gain...and your blood pressure was normal...you certainly don't look like you're accumulating fat. Let's check your height."
A few moments later, Dr. Hartman was clicking his tongue.
"What? What is it? What does it say?" asked Emma, knowing that she was giving her anxiety away.
"Now here's what's quite interesting," said Dr. Hartman, looking at her from behind his glasses. "I'm measuring you right now at just a tad over 5'10, two inches taller than you were last year."
"See!? See that's what I'm talking about!" exclaimed Emma. "I'm 28 years old! Women don't just...start getting taller randomly, do they??"
"Not generally, no they do not," said Dr. Hartman, eying her curiously. He was looking at her face closely, and then, without speaking, he took her hands in his and examined them.
"What are you checking for?" asked Emma, trying and failing to sound easy and natural.
"Hmmm, it's just...very curious...verrry curious indeed," said Dr. Hartman, turning back to his computer and typing out some notes. "There's a condition called "acromegaly," which is a hormonal disorder that can develop if your pituitary gland starts producing excess growth hormone. It's extremely rare, with less than 20,000 cases a year, but...those who have it do experience sudden and rapid growth. But I don't think you have it, Emma."
"Y-you don't? Why not?"
"Well, acromegaly presents with abnormal enlargement of the face, hands, and feet."
"Yes! Feet! My feet have been growing! My shoes have been too tight!" exclaimed Emma quickly.
"Yes, but you see...all of your growth looks proportional, Emma. Maybe your feet and hands have gotten bigger, but it's not in disproportion to the rest of your body. That's not how acromegaly presents."
Emma was silent for a moment, and Dr. Hartman laughed a little.
"That's good news, Emma!" he said, smiling. "It means you don't have a serious hormonal disorder!"
"Yeah but...but what do I have?" asked Emma. She wasn't at all satisfied not knowing.
"Well, I'm not sure -- let's run some blood tests and see what we find. Try not to worry too much, ok Emma? Despite your interesting new growth, everything else seems to be in order."
Emma tried to heed her doctor's advice for the next few days, since she knew that her anxiety could become debilitating if she allowed it to fester. It was hard to follow the advice, however, because almost everywhere she turned, she was noticing how different everything was becoming. To begin with, her clothes were becoming so tight and uncomfortable that she was seriously considering the prospect of going out to buy new ones. She hated even thinking about this, because it meant actually admitting that she was, in fact, growing, but what choice did she have? The waistband to her work pants had become unpleasantly tight, and was pressing deeply into her flesh. Her legs had gotten longer, to the point where there was actually a little bit of ankle showing when she stood up straight. Emma had unhappily noticed Stacy and Monica glancing down at her exposed ankles when they were standing together in the break room. Neither of them said anything, but Emma knew that they had noticed and were silently asking questions. And her feet...her poor feet...Emma knew that she was going to have to get new shoes, and sooner rather than later. She comforted herself briefly by wearing some one-inch heels from the back of her closet that had been a Christmas gift years ago, which she hadn't wanted to return, but that she had never worn because they had been too big. This idea worked for a couple days, but even then, she felt her feet beginning to press uncomfortably up on the shoes' sides. Her feet were outgrowing them too!
Her relationship with Daniel was not unchanged by these new developments, and Emma felt guilty even admitting that to herself. Daniel hadn't seemed at all affected by it, and he made it a point to calmly reassure her whenever she brought up her anxiety surrounding her new growth. But for Emma, things had changed. Approaching Daniel in height and weight had injected a whole flurry of new and disorienting feelings into her brain. When she went to work in the mornings, she noticed that, in her one-inch heels, she was only two inches shorter than her boyfriend. This man, who a couple weeks ago had seemed so much taller and larger than her, now seemed almost...ordinary compared to her.
