Chapter 6: Stuffed

I guess you could say the next big event in my life happened about a year ago. I was 25 years old, and it had been a little over two years since that Christmas when I stumbled upon the fact that I had become the fattest person in my family. I weighed somewhere around 285 by then, and any doubt as to who was the biggest woman in my family had been settled once and for all. I had a very round face by then, complete with a soft double chin. My breasts and belly were constantly jiggled and wobbling around when I moved. Moving, by the way, was even different now. I had begun walking around in such a way that can only be described as waddling. My butt, which used to have some firmness to it way back when, was bigger and flabbier than ever. I guess that goes for my entire body; any hint of former firmness was gone. I definitely had the body shape of a heavy set woman. If you put my mom and me side by side, you would have no trouble identifying us as mother and daughter, which wasn’t always the case. I had settled into life as a plump woman, and while I still didn’t think all the weight was super sexy, I was totally and completely indifferent to it. It was just who I was, and if people didn’t like it, then too bad.

One person who definitely liked it was my then boyfriend, Tom. We had been dating for two or three months at this point, and I was gaga over him. I had been on dates over the years, but he was the first guy I had been in a relationship with since my freshman year in college. We got serious very quickly (too quickly, I would later realize) and I moved in with him really fast. We got along so perfectly; we told each other everything. I told him how I used to be thin, and all my feelings that went along with that. After a while he finally admitted that he had a thing for seeing girls gain weight. It definitely caught me off guard at first, since I had no idea that people were into that kind of thing. But in the interest of being a good girlfriend I listened to what he had to say about it. He showed me websites where people worshipped “BBWs” and admired their girth. I remember looking at some of the girls on those sites and noticing that I was bigger than they were. I guess I was a BBW. After a few weeks of him talking about it and how much it turned him on, I said “what the hell” and we set aside a special night where he would get to live out his fantasy and fill me up with food. I must have been “blinded by love” when I agreed to do such a thing, but I just wanted to make him happy like he made me happy.

Sure enough that “one special night” that we set aside turned into another special night, and another, and soon we were doing it at least once a week. Tom would bring a ton of food into the bedroom and feed it to me while he rubbed my huge belly. Then, after I was so full I could barely move, we would have sex. He got a huge kick out of it. I enjoyed it, for sure, but I think I enjoyed it because he enjoyed it more so than because of the actual sensation of having sex while I was stuffed. Does that make sense? Anyway, it was a very odd experience for me, considering my battles with my weight over the years. If my high school self could see have seen what I was doing now she probably would have vomited. But by then I was secure enough in my own skin that I genuinely didn’t mind gaining a few pounds if it made Tom happy. I mean, what’s a few pounds when you’re already huge? You’re probably thinking I was just a silly girl in love, and you’d be right. I was smitten, and it was definitely clouding my judgment. That is, until something happened that really opened my eyes.

After almost two months of weekly feedings, I came home from work to find Tom in the bathroom. I went into our bedroom and noticed his laptop open on the bed. He was very protective of his laptop; I figured he probably had a bunch of porn on there he didn’t want me to see. There was a chat room window open, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to spy just a little. His last message said “brb, gotta hit the bathroom”, but what got my attention were the things he’d written before that. Things like “yeah, she does whatever I tell her like a good pig slut”, and “she’s already a fat cow, but she’s gonna be 500 lbs. when I’m done with her.” When the toilet flushed and Tom walked out of the bathroom, he walked in on me crying my eyes out. He tried to give me excuses, but I wasn’t having it. I packed up and got out of there as fast as I could.

I moved back in with my parents for a while after that. I didn’t dare tell my mother that I had been stuffing myself. I felt so stupid. Not that I had let somebody feed me so much food, because I actually enjoyed that part somewhat. The part that made me cringe was that I had let a loser like Tom, who clearly didn’t love me and was only using me as a guinea pig, do those things to me. I had put myself out there into strange territory and my heart got stomped on. I was devastated. Ironically, I basically started stuffing myself to try to dull the pain. It was totally irrational, but food had always been comforting for me. I nearly ate my parents out of house and home for almost two weeks. I thought so little of myself during that time. I had some real identity issues. I don’t know if I even had a reason for stuffing my face other than the fact that it felt good, but a part of me thinks I did it because I stupidly bought into what Tom was saying. I think in my head I thought I really was a cow for those two weeks; I was a fat girl and fat girls are supposed to eat all the time, so I did. It was so stupid.

I don’t know if I would have ever snapped out of it if it weren’t for my mother. I was crying a lot at the time, and I remember her walking in, sitting down on the bed and holding me. It was like déjà vu; almost the exact same situation as that summer after high school when I found out I was 160 pounds. Once again I found myself turning to my mother for support. Some things never change, I suppose. As usual, she told me all the right things; that I was beautiful, that I shouldn’t bother with a man who didn’t love me, and that someday I would find one who did. I left our conversation feeling like there was hope for me yet.

Later on that night I weighed myself on the bathroom scale. All that stuffing I had done with Tom, not to mention my subsequent two week stuff-a-thon, had fattened me up to 306 pounds. I felt that same chill that ran up my spine when I passed 200 pounds return. I was so huge. I think I would’ve freaked out if I hadn’t just had such a great talk with my mom. Instead of losing it, I just tried to act mature and thought “I guess I’m a 300 pound woman now.” I couldn’t believe it and was honestly a bit frazzled, but I like to think that if somebody had been watching me on that scale, I could have fooled them into thinking I was taking it in stride.