chapter 16

As I headed towards twenty stones I really started to look like a fat man!
I loved the way my flesh rubbed together, I loved it's softness and it's wobbliness.
I had several very keen followers online who encouraged my to keep up the good work. I earned so much from their subscriptions and donations that I did to worry about money any more.
I bought all my food and clothing on line and only went out for my appointments.
The nurses were sick of my wound not healing. It was now underneath a great apron of flab that had to be lifted every time they needed to gain access to it. The wound edges would never come together as it was constantly being pulled apart by my moving flesh. It was also considerably warmer hidden down there underneath all my folds. I was starting to get infections in it that were difficult to get rid off. The had to think of a different tactic.
One way of thinking would be for me to lose weight. They referred me to a dietician, but I deliberately didn't turn up for the appointment because I knew what I needed to eat to lose weight. I simply chose to go the opposite way.
They put some kind of foam in there, sealed it with plastic and stuck a hose in there that was attached to a vacuum pump that I had to carry around with me. This new style of dressing required fewer dressing changes... once or twice a week instead of every couple of days. This suited me fine because that meant that I could spend the extra time at home, lazing about. It was another day of the week when I did not have to drag myself into the shower and get dressed. It was more time to scoff even more food!
The pump was not that comfortable, I have to say, but it worked! The vacuum sucked away debris from the wound and encouraged the formation of small blood vessels at the base of the wound, thus increasing the blood supply and increasing wound healing. After one week of treatment with the pump, I had achieved a whole month's worth of healing in the conventional manner and it prevented me getting further infections.
It did not stop me from getting even fatter!
As I approached twenty five stones, my fat was starting to hamper my movement. My lack of fitness showed as I became breathless after climbing up the stairs to bed. I couldn't walk anymore, I waddled.
Reaching down to put on a pair of underpants or trousers was getting difficult, simply because of my great big belly.
Lifting my leg over the edge of the bath to have a shower was becoming more difficult and I didn't dare have a bath in case I got wedged inside of it.
I knew I needed to make some changes to my house to make my life easier, but I was not willing to make those changes because that meant I had to tidy up for the workmen coming and that was too much of an effort.
Getting a shower was now only a weekly ritual. I had to allocate a good hour to the process of getting ready, simply because it was so tiring and I had to take frequent rests.
The rest of the week, I didn't bother getting washed. I sat around in my night clothes all day every day, no matter how much food debris accumulated on my pyjamas or how hot and sweaty I was.
I was a real fat, lazy slob! Oh and you could add onto that how greedy and gluttonous I now was as well! Every day I ploughed through a mountain of high calorie, high fat foods with one intention... I wanted to get even bigger... and fatter...
My house was now my hermitage. The only face to face contact I had with humans was with the nurses once a week. Other than my life online, I lived in a world dominated by tv shows and food.
Online, I didn't turn my camera on unless I had been to the doctors that day and therefore, I'd been in the shower.
One of my supporters was a woman called Lisa. She said she lived nearby. She had asked if she could come and call on me more than once, but I turned her down every time.
As I grew bigger and my life was becoming more restrictive, I knew I could no longer look after myself without help.
I was ashamed to let the pretty slim blonde woman into my home. I could not be bothered to tidy up just for her coming, so she had to face a mountain of discarded food containers as she came in. She had to move some rubbish off a chair just to sit down.
She understood the mess when she saw me sitting in my favourite position, eagerly eating my way through the second of four small cream cakes she had brought me.
She understood entirely.
She spent all weekend clearing up my mess and keeping me supplied with food dripping in fat.
Next, she set about making some changes in my house. She made the formal dining room my bedroom. She extended the downstairs toilet and converted it into a wet room, with a chair so that I could sit down and rest during my shower. She had rails installed in the hall so that I could support myself better as I waddled my way to the newer and bigger toilet.
She didn't just stop at sprucing up the house. She shaved me and cut my hair. She rubbed moisturising cream into my dry skin. She dressed me.
When she wasn't working, she entirely took over my life! She got me up in the morning, she washed me, dressed me, toileted me and made sure I never went without something to eat within arm's reach.

At first I was not sure whether I had done the right thing by letting Lisa into my life. She was taking over. She was in control.
Then again, my life was so much easier. I did not have the effort of going up and down the stairs. I did not have to wade ankle deep in rubbish to go to the kitchen. I did not have to worry about a thing. Everything was done and provided for me. That was a relief. There was only one thing I had to do and that was eat.
I was more than happy to do that!