Little Miss Piggie

Gluttony At The Gig

I'm sucking down the drinks like they're going out of style and stuffing the contents of my snack box down my throat as the beat throbs. Sometimes when they hit a cord just right, the vibrations make all my blubber wobble. I can't wait to go to another gig when I get even fatter. I look down and see that they have handicapped areas marked off. By the time the next gig I'm going to in July rules round I'll be too wide and fluffy to fit into the seats at the stadium. I'm going to have to rent a wheelchair and be parked down in the pit. Better seats for a lower price? It's like they want you to get bigger in this country. They reward and encourage morbid obesity. Get too big to fit in our seats and we'll move you down to the front where a snack boy will get your order so you don't have to wobble your way to and from the snack bar! 

By the time the final song plays, I've eaten everything in sight, had two more drinks and cotton candy. I feel like I'm going to explode. I'm so full of food and heavy right now that I can't stand up. I'm stuffed into the small space, unable to get my balance together to haul my hefty ass up. My friend and one guy sitting next to us have to help me to my feet. I waddle behind her, sloshing heavily from all the cocktails and food in me. I feel like a giant water balloon. I've never been more aroused. I'm tipsy and breathing heavily from how stuffed I am. She has to help me into the uber. The seatbelt is stretched to its limits around my middle, almost threatening to cut me in half. She has to half push me out of the uber. My stomach smacks her accidentally and I almost fall on her. "Drunk, Stoned and Stuffed is a good look on you." My t-shirt is ridden up and it looks ridiculously small on me. The waistband of my pants is buried under my rolls. 

I get into the elevator. It doesn't have a mirror in it like some of them do. I think about what it will look and feel like when I one day waddle into an elevator and take up most of the room inside it. I wonder how those around me when the door opens and reveals me. Someone who's on their way to becoming nothing more than a mountain of blubber. I make it into the room and heave myself onto the bed. "I really ate like a hog tonight." "I wasn't kidding when I said you were probably going to eat until you explode. You're starting to look like that girl from the Wonka factory you know. Are you really sure you want to keep doing this?" 

It takes me a minute to roll over onto my side. My stomach oozes out like a mountain of jello hanging off of my body. The skin is getting dimpled and the stretch marks are rampant. The gem in my navel is dangerously close to getting lost in a roll. Maybe one day I'll be big enough to play hide and seek with it. "Yeah, of course. I love food. I love being obese. I'm really considering going for the big 600. Fuck staying at between 500-550 pounds, when I can be 600!" "But when you're like 500 pounds you're going to be kinda too big to take care of yourself. What are you going to do if you put on another 100 pounds after that?" "I have good health insurance. I can get home help." "I worry about you getting that big. The health problems you might have, you'll struggle to move around." "I'm okay with being immobile." "WHAT?" "Yeah, well, If I gain to 600 pounds, I might not be able to stop when I reach that weight. Or if I'm struggling too much before then and I become bed-bound, I'm still going to keep eating until I reach 600 pounds." She falls silent.  Immobility would be kinda hot. Me, filling up a reinforced bariatric bed? One with a built-in scale? God that's the dream.

"You know, I wish there was a pill I could take to increase my appetite. Right now I'm so fucking full that I might be sick and I'm still craving something sweet to eat. Something stronger than the pot. Something that will just help me get enormous as fast as possible." "Well, maybe you should look into that. Maybe there's one of those feeder guys you tell me about that's a scientist and he's developed a kind of feedee fat pill." "That only happens in stories." "I know. You just keep grazing and I'm sure you be as swollen as you wanna be in no time." 

I should start thinking about ordering a seatbelt extender. The thought occurs to me when I'm sitting in the nutritionist's office.  The looks I get from other patients is hilarious. 'That pour morbidly obese girl coming here trying to control her appetite!' 'Wow, look at the size of her, I bet she's intimate with every category on the food pyramid.' They call my name and I get up and head for the door. I'm moving slower, still kinda weighed down from last night's concert pig out. I get up on the scale for her. "374.8" YES! I'm starting to break through that plateau phase! I step down from the scale. 

"What can the nurse practitioner help you with today?" "My diet." "That's a great first step, admitting that you need to change your diet. It's not easy for someone of your size to cut back and change what they eat overnight, but with proper diet, balanced nutrition and exercise I know you'll be able to shed that unwanted poundage and reach a nice healthy weight." "I think we have different ideas on what a healthy weight for me is." "Oh?" "I'm thinking 500 pounds to start. I need to gain a little over 120 more to reach that right? I want to see how my body looks and feels as I gain the weight before I really become sold on going on to 600. It's a hot fantasy and I'd love to be that enormous, but I want to make sure that it's like doable for me, you know? I'm here to get a diet plan to help me gain weight. I'd like to know roughly what amount of calories I should consume to just maintain my current weight so I can then add on a few thousand or so." Her mouth hangs open. "Let me see if I'm hearing you correctly." She adjusts her glasses. "You are a morbidly obese patient, weighing nearly 400 pounds and you've come here not to get a handle on your waistline, should I say, get a handle on your increasing problem..You've come here looking for a plan to help you gain 100 pounds. Just to see if you like the look and feel of your body at that size." I nod, my chins looking even more swollen. "Wow. That's just something you don't hear every day." 

I leave the office with a new diet plan in my chubby hand. She's going to help me do it! I don't know how or why I got her to agree with it, but she's going to help me. This time next year, I will be super morbidly obese. I'm daydreaming about the day that I will be supersized, stuffed into a too-tight jogging suit (oh the irony there) and stuffed on a small loveseat that looks like a one-man armchair with my girth filling it up. Most of the delivery places will know my address my heart and will always sneak in an extra order of something...Ah, that will be the days. 

Who thinks I can make 400 soon? Does anyone have any sweet suggestions for a suggestive potential super sizer? I've booked two train tickets for when I'm going to travel next month, just to make sure that I have enough room to move. Train corridors are rather narrow...I wonder whos going to get smacked by my bodacious hips and ass as I attempt to squeeze my blossoming body through the seats? Who wants to help feed me to that size? Tease me about my dream of becoming a massive land whale. Tell me what you want to stuff me with and what you'd like me to wear while you're doing it.