Heyyyy! I know it's not good but I think it's an improvement. I think so anyways. DISCLAIMER: I DON'T NOT OWN HETALIA (No matter how much I dream I do). This is a little bit of the unseen side of this character, and personally, I think there needs to be more stories about this side of him. Without further ado, the story!
Fat
Stupid
Dumb
Obese
Idiotic
He was used to being called these things, of course. Every day, he heard them. From Germany, England, Romano, France, Spain, Canada, Japan, China, Russia, even Italy. The happy go lucky nation that couldn't hurt a fly. Even he could be heard snickering about a comment he made about the nation's slight pudge, or 'dumb' ideas, or the eating habits he had that everyone considered monstrous.
"God you're so fat, you're going to burst!"
"Lighten up on the edible obesity, da?"
"Call a lunch break before fatso over here eats ME!"
"Lord it's hot- huh. I thought you would sweat fat."
These words ran through his head over and over, the only things he could hear. The music blaring from his headphone fell away for a moment as he just heard that.
"Get away from me! I don't want to catch obesity!"
"Oh lord, he's eating again. Who couldn't have guessed THAT one?"
"Jesus christ, not another presentation from him."
"Just sit down. No one wants to hear your voice today."
He shook his head and focused on the treadmill beneath him for a minute and let them all drift away. No one knew how often he took dieting pills and laxatives to try and shed the weight. No one knew how often he would spend hours at the gym, neglecting his work to try and drop just one more pound. No one noticed that his stomach had slimmed down and that he wasn't so much as fat as he was muscular. Or that he really wasn't fat to begin with. All they knew was that he still had a bit of pudge and ate a bit more than what he should have. But they didn't care that their words had him crying himself to sleep sometimes, or starving himself, or puking up after a meal. They just wanted their verbal punching bag. He turned off the treadmill and packed his things to go to his home. He had left a little early that day, only working out for about two or three hours. He would shower when he got home. Showering at the gym used to be no problem, but now when he was away from that faux personality he put up for them his confidence plummeted. He slipped out to his car, tossing his stuff in the back and getting into the driver seat. He turned the key and headed home, humming a bit. He tried to focus on the road but eventually he got back onto what they had said. After thinking about it for a while he shook his head and tried to get rid of the thoughts. The song in his head changed and he bitterly began humming, still singing the words mentally. 'Oh beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain'. He barely believed that anymore. What was beautiful about a fat pig like him? Nothing. It's what everyone said and now, he believed it too. One day he would be beautiful. One day. After all that fat was gone. Then, then he would be beautiful. For now though, he was just America the fat and stupid.