that's actually the funniest part. you think im stuffing you because ill find your body erotic? you want me to wax poetic about your burgeoning breasts? no, you fucking bloated pig. there isn't some grand prize of intimacy at the end of all this. you're just going to have to be a fatass. an awkward, sweaty, growing tub of lard. no, see, im doing this because it's funny. its incredible to watch you panic at your own bubbling body, to watch your own existence flush and humiliate you. i see your face turn that harsh red whenever you look down- and i don't think you know this yet, but your gut blushes too.
your belly gets so much talk, but- i know those growing flesh handles pouring over your side have been sneaking out into the cold air, more and more. no, we're not getting you a change in clothes. i simply want you to feel the claustrophobic pressure in your tightening pants, and know im over there laughing at the doughy rolls that pop out through your top. i prefer you to stretch and ruin your old shirts, by forcing them to conform to your protruding fat belly. you think no one hears the seams crackle and rip when you sit down, thunder thighs expanding-- but i do. no, we're not finished yet, open your mouth. i want your gut to be so unavoidable that you can't walk anywhere without thinking about it swaying, slapping against your thighs. i want your stomach to crowd out all your motions, a bodily heft you practically have to climb over. and if you ever start to sense the warm comfort of denial, just when you've lulled yourself into that fog- you'll feel a jiggling slap right where you're most ticklish, harsh enough to scratch your spongy body. or, even better, you'll hear the click of my camera! it doesn't matter when it happens, ill just wait- it never takes long to find a moment where your new girth is unflattering. when you're bent over to grab something and your gut hangs low, when you turn your head just right to catch a cheek full of double chin, those moments you don't realize your shirt is riding up over that profoundly squishy middle- ill document it, remind you over and over that this is simply what you are now. what i made you to be.
