the first time you get a little scared about gaining weight isn't when you thought it'd be. turns out twenty pounds didn't make as big of a difference as you thought it would. you weren't very toned to begin and you'd softened up a lot but no one really seemed to notice. you definitely weren't big, or, not your idea of big.
what scares you has nothing to do with how the weight is starting to settle ok you. what scares you is pressing your hands into the softening flesh of your belly to feel the firm exaggerated swell of your stuffed stomach underneath and knowing that from the very beginning, you were doing this because you needed more.
when you started deliberately gaining weight you felt like you were taking a dare. you'd probably gain thirty pounds max...right? it was just for fun, to see what it was like and then you'd slim right back down, curiosity sated....right?
of course not. thirty pounds have come and gone and now you're melting into a lavish cascade of thickening fat. your shirts are starting to shorten and the buttons strain and gap as you eat throughout the day. when you catch yourself thinking that your muffin top is bulging more than it did before, you start to admit that it isn't just your imagination. handfuls of soft, wobbling fat all bulging from your hips and chest and ass served as irrefutable evidence that you were eating well these days.
you're indefensibly plump. no one would argue with that. some people are so shocked to see this fatter you that they get too flustered to speak. you wobble and jiggle and bounce and there's so much more to grab and shake and honestly, it happened fast, didn't it? of course they're shocked. You are too, sometimes. but you're not scaring so easy anymore. the shock is one that comes in waves of pleasure.
but still...it's not quite enough is it? a little more couldn't hurt. You're in a gaining mood, so why not lean in? You're starting to know how rewarding it can be when you do.
before you even realize it, you're putting another bite into your mouth seemingly every moment of the day. a cookie here. a latte there. bags of candy, bags of chips and cartons after cartons of ice cream. more pizza. You're indulging in snacks and seconds and desserts and make every reason to eat multiples of everything. you know where this is leading and all you can seem to do is race yourself to get there faster. your belly is going to start to hang, from the looks of it.
how often do you see yourself in the mirror wiping your hand across your mouth that's been so coated grease it feels uncomfortably slick? how often do you notice your cramming another sweet treat past your lips with one hand while reaching for another soda or beer to drink with the other. you used to struggle through chugging a glass of water but now you're used to the dull ache of a stomach stretched out by fizzy liquids after massive bowls of pasta. you crave the deep, thick belches that reverberate through your body that you swore you weren't that into. burgers, donuts, fuck it, you are getting fat. something in you flipped the first time you saw the scale tick up and up and up. now you practically dive into a bucket of fried chicken with courage, dimpled hands unsteady with eager anticipation of glutting yourself again with all that salt and fat and grease.
I'd say you got over the fear of your growing appetite quickly, in any case.
