I care more about fat than anything else.
When I make excuses to not see people so I can spend my time just sitting in my room, thinking about obesity and looking at the fattest people ever to be alive, or drawings of people fatter than our present reality allows, I wonder–––
Everyone who knows me knows I'm a bit flaky. A few who know me very well know I am prone to using porn and fantasy to disappear from the world.
No one knows what I really do, though. No one knows how deep this goes, how old it is. No one understands how powerful, how uncontrollable, and how unlimited my lust for fat really is.
They don't know much time I spend every day just thinking about fat. How I spend hours and hours every day and every night looking at photos, videos, gifs, and artwork universally depicting bodies on the furthest, ragged extremes of obesity, and beyond.
They don't know how, if I could find them, I would devote the rest of my life to the care and further fattening of a nearly immobile partner. The thought of my mega obese love rolling down the aisle at our wedding towards me in their extra-wide power wheelchair, sporting enormous, bespoke attire because they are far too fat for any available clothing, immensely fat and soon to be only even more so with me at their side, fills me with such contentment to imagine.
I would cut ties with anyone in my life in a heartbeat for a life spent devoted to my massively obese partner. I see us hiding ourselves away from a world that doesn't understand our love. They swell bigger every day, with every drive-thru run, every pint of ice cream, every 2-liter of soda, hundreds and hundreds of grams of sugar every few hours, practically on a drip.
I care more about fat than anything else.
