Yesterday was a really low point for me. It seemed at every turn that I was reminded of how fat I've become. I felt huge, and disgusting, and ashamed. So of course, as soon as I was alone, I stuffed myself.
Obviously, the opposite action to take if I was truly disturbed by my size. But really, what I was feeling was alone. There I was, facing my enormous weight gain as if it mattered and my partner seemed so unaware. Not just unaware of my feelings, no, worse than that, unaware of my rapidly growing body.
After trying in vain to fit into every single pair of shorts and jeans I own yesterday (that don't have an elastic waist) I stomped down stairs and announced I would have to buy new pants immediately or I would not be able to go out to dinner that night with our friends. He never looked up from his phone. "Sure, go ahead." was his exact response. I put my hands on my waist, as if to dramatize my point, "my pants will not even fit around me, much less button!". Nothing. Silence.
How can someone so big be so invisible? Does he realize how fat I have gotten this year but is just afraid to say? If that's it, he's a marvelous actor. Not to mention that I once asked him how come he never mentions my weight gain and his answer..."I never noticed, you wear baggy clothes.".
Baggy clothes? Yeah that would hide a few pounds here or there but surely not the 100 pounds I have gained in our 16 years together! Especially when 60 of those pounds has been just recent. No, he really doesn't seem to notice. Worse yet, he doesn't seem to care. I mean, at least if he hated it and called me a fat pig I might actually stick to a diet. But his total lack of awareness just makes me eat more.
So, did I go buy new pants? No. I waited until he left for the day and then stuffed myself. I don't think it was my plan, it sort of just happened. I ate one thing and then another. I cleaned out the kitchen by late afternoon and rather than stop I ordered pizza. I was past the point of caring by then and just wanted to eat.
I answered the door to the DoorDash driver with my shorts rolled down beneath my bloated gut and a tshirt that stopped fitting 40 pounds ago, no bra and my nipples hard as my tits lay on top of my ball belly. I had hit rock bottom. I wanted my fat body to shock someone. And it did.
The girl delivering my pizza was a tiny wisp of a thing. A strong wind would knock her over. Not particularly pretty but young enough and scantily dressed enough in this heat to turn a few heads. But it was her that did the double take. She tried to act like it was normal to see someone bulging out of their clothes answer the door as if they were showing off but her face said it all.
I imagined her a cartoon character who's jaw dropped and hit the floor. And her teeny tiny waist and bee sting boobies made me want to ham it up even more. Honestly, had it been an older person or even a guy, I probably would have sucked it in and tried to cover myself in shame. But something about the absurdity of my huge stuffed belly compared to her perfectly flat tummy made me snap.
I stuck my gut out proudly and acted like I was barely able to stand. I allowed the pizza box to bump my belly before moving my hands to fully grasp it. And then, in over the top fashion, instead of saying thank you and closing the door, I had to go one step further.
"Thanks for getting here so quickly. I'm starved and wanted time to eat this whole pizza before I have to get ready to go out for dinner."
The words hung there between us for a moment. I instantly regretted it. She laughed as if I had made a wonderful joke. I laughed too my belly bouncing against the warm pizza box. And then suddenly embarrassment turned to excitement. I wanted desperately to stop her and say "No, no, it's true! Come watch me." But thank the heavens I returned to my senses!
She hurried away down the long walkway back to her car and I slunk back inside and locked the door as if shutting out the world. I immediately opened the pizza and shoved a slice in my mouth. I ate the first few pieces standing in the kitchen. I took the rest upstairs with me. I sat on the end of the bed staring into my closet and just kept eating.
I ate the whole thing. Mind you, that's something I never do! Not when I'm on a purposeful binge even, do I eat an entire pizza. I felt sick. My stomach hurt, it was hard and too full. I tried to burp as much as I could. I laid back on the bed. I felt like I would burst. With my shorts pulled down and my shirt pulled up I fell asleep.
When I woke I felt that all too familiar regret and humiliation. I set about cleaning up the evidence of my gluttony. Tried my best to shower and doll myself up a bit. All the while being so aware of my horrible shame. I contemplated canceling my DoorDash account, but it's never the same driver twice around here I decided.
I mixed a very stiff drink to muster some courage and upstairs I went to dress. My clothes were tight and uncomfortable. My bra pushed against my still rock hard bulging stomach, my panties cut into my hips and rolled under my ball belly. I managed to get myself into a pair of stretch jeggings (jeans made like leggings) and with the aid of a button extender managed to get them fastened. I chose the loosest tank top I could find and stretched at it to try and help it fit better. Slip on sandals were all I could manage since I really didn't want to bend over if I didn't have to.
Back down stairs I hoped I could relieve myself some before leaving but no luck. My body decided you ate all that, you can keep it. By the time I was done rechecking hair and make-up I had finished a second drink. He texted from the car. "I'm here" is all it said. No time for another drink. Ugh. I took a quick slug from the bottle.
Feeling like a sausage stuffed in my tight clothes, with a bit of a buzz, and a gut loaded with food still, I left for the car. Again cartoon visions filled my head as I imagined I looked like I had been filled with an air pump, or garden hose, or conveyor belt quickly dropping food into my greedy mouth. I assumed that in turn, if I was as fat as those characters, I must waddle like them too! A tinge of excitement ran through me and I allowed my belly to heavily sway with each step.
He never looked up. Not even when I struggled to get into his car or when I groaned and grunted fastening my seat belt. I tugged at my top trying to free it from my belly rolls. My pants felt like they were cutting into skin. I felt huge. I felt stuffed. I felt so fat. And most of all I felt excited!
Excited that I was going out to eat. That's right...eat. I knew, then and there as he ignored me and chatted on about his day, that I was far from done stuffing myself today. I was going to eat again, in public, in front of his friends, if it killed me. Fuck him for not seeing how huge I've gotten. Fuck him for not saying, "um hey sweetie you've really put on a bit of weight". Fuck him for not being turned on at the idea of watching me sitting next to him in a restaurant booth eating until I have to unbutton my pants. And more over...fuck him for not saying "you look beautiful tonight". Because as fat as I was, as bloated and uncomfortable as I was, I did still TRY to look pretty for him.