I’m starting to look like a melting ice-cream cone. One that has a strawberry drizzle. All of my side rolls are covered with pale pink stretch marks; just another sign from my rapid growth. I’m starting to get to the point where I can no longer tuck my belly into my pants. I look at myself in the mirror. I can’t believe that I’ve eaten myself to such an enormous size. My face has.gotten so fat that my cheeks, chins and neck have basically become one bulgeling roll. I think back watch myself get wider and wider with each passing month. I guess things got a little control and now I’m having trouble fitting through the door. I don’t exactly look bad. Big, fluffy arms are in this season. I strike a pose in the mirror. Oh my God, is that a little fat roll starting at my wrist? Christ, my hands are starting to bloat up. I’m swelling up like a balloon and I really can’t stop myself. I look so good at this size, that it would be a crime not to envision myself with a few more pounds on my frame...or maybe a few hundred pounds?
