When talking with other gainers, one question that often seems to come up is 'When did you first realise that you were a feedee?' For me, I didn't just wake up one day and suddenly realise I was that way inclined, it was much more a gradual awakening that started when I was a young girl and developed as I got older.
I was born into a family of obese people, my parents both weighing well over 25 stone when I was growing up, and nearly all of my Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and Grandparents were fat to various degrees. Food was always very important in our household, and my parents firmly holding the belief that a fat child is a healthy child were always very generous when it came to portion sizes, second helpings and snacks between meals. I've also been told that I was a very hungry child, happily eating whatever food was placed before me. In fact I would finish up my plate so readily that my mother, thinking that she hadn't given me enough, would then give me second helpings. It was only later she found out from a social worker that she was feeding me far more than she should have done for a child of my age. Consequently even as a toddler I was obese, and as I grew up I steadily became fatter, reaching over 34 stone at 26 years old today.
Considering my childhood and the way I was fed, and I guess it's fairly apt then that some of my earliest memories are to do with food and eating. I distinctly remember at the age of around four or five, sitting at the kitchen table on a hard wooden chair and being spoon fed by my mother. Spoon feeding is something my mother has always done. At first I guess it was just the practical way to feed a child, but later it became a way of getting me to finish up my food when I was reluctant to eat any more, and she continued to do it right the way through my childhood up to the age of around Sixteen or Seventeen. She would even spoon feed my father from time to time, trying to get him to finish up his main course or dessert. Nowadays I associate it with warm, safe feelings, since she was very attentive, giving gentle words of encouragement as she pushed the spoon towards my mouth. By the time I left the table I always felt very full and completely satisfied.
I think that growing up as a fat child had a profound influence on my personality as I got older. I was always a very weak and gentle child, much preferring to stay indoors and quietly play games than run around outside. Not being active themselves, my parents never taught me how to ride a bicycle or play ball games, and at school I was already being branded as the fat girl and told how useless I was at sport. I soon began to realize that I was different to other children my age. Physically I was soft and rounded, with a large pot belly that other girls in my class just didn't have. I was also slow and uncoordinated, always the first to get caught playing tag and the last to get picked for a team. In evenings and at weekends I would often sit on the carpet in the front room and play with my plastic farm animals, read a Jackie comic, or draw pictures of horses. My father would settle down in his arm chair to watch the news or sport on the TV, and my mother would sit next to him doing her sowing. She would spend hours letting out skirts and trousers in an attempt to get them to fit, since in those days it was even more difficult to find large sized clothing than it is today. Whatever we were doing however there would nearly always be at least one of us that was eating, be it a bag of crisps, a slice of cake, or a cup of tea and a chocolate bar. If we did happen to venture out anywhere, you could be sure that food was always one of the first things on our minds. At the seaside we would get an ice-cream before we did anything else, we would then find a cafe for lunch, and after spending a little time on the beach, we would most likely go back to the cafe for a cup of tea or glass of orange and a large pudding or dessert. If I saw something I fancied to eat, a packet of sweets, an ice-lolly, a burger, a portion of chips or whatever else I happened to see, I would pester my parents mercilessly until I got it. I always knew that they would give in if I kept up my whining for long enough, and I usually got it sooner rather than later. We would eat in the car on the outward and return journeys, and have a meal before we left and when we got back.
I was the fattest child she had ever seen
By the tender age of Ten I had already become so fat that people outside my family were really starting to worry about my weight. I started to wear my first bra, having developed large fatty breasts despite the fact that I was still two years off pubity. I remember on a visit to the school nurse, standing on the scales and being severely told off for weighing nearly 9 stone. She made me burst into tears, telling me I was the fattest child she had ever seen, and kept asking me repeatedly how I could have let myself get into such a state. She was even more cross when she told my mother, telling her that she found it hard to believe that I could have rolls of fat on my belly at such a young age, and how it would cause me all kinds of problems in the future if I didn't slim down. She might have guessed however from the size of my mother that her words would pretty much fall upon deaf ears. There was a half hearted attempt to get me to diet in the weeks that followed, but I think my mother was more bothered about being rudely told how to bring up her daughter.
It was around the same period, that my parents held a BBQ for the neighbors and set out an inflatable paddling pool for their children and myself to play in. They were sitting on the patio while I was wading through the pool letting the cool water slosh around my feet when I heard them start to discuss my size. I guess in my swimming costume it was easy for them to see just how large I had become and I kept hearing comments like 'it's a shame that she puts on weight as easily as she does' and 'the trouble is that she just loves her food a bit too much'. The funny thing is that despite the things they were saying I enjoyed listening to their comments, and loved that fact that they were all talking about me and that I was the center of attention. I also knew even then that I actually enjoyed being fat, liked my large pot belly, and didn't want to lose any weight. I think it was one of my first real gainer experiences and from then on my feedee fantasies started to develop, becoming more deeply embedded as I got older.
From around the age of twelve I can remember deliberately eating to try and put on weight. I have very fond memories of meal times when we would all sit around the kitchen table together and eat our way through large helpings of roast beef, spaghetti bologneise, or cauliflower cheese, followed by traditional English desserts such as rhubarb crumble, or fruit trifle and cream. Sometimes I would have second helpings of both main course and dessert just to fill myself right up, and then when we went through to the front room my mother would bring in tea and cakes, or a bowl of ice-cream for each of us. At school I would always make sure I ate a big lunch, supplementing it with sweets and snacks from the vending machines which I would eat between lessons. Food was always on my mind and I would spend hours in class dreaming about what I was going to eat during the next break rather than doing my school work. I've never been particularly academic but I'm sure this constant distraction contributed to poor grades I attained at school.
By this time I was over 13 stone and easily the fattest girl in my year, none of my clothes ever used to fit and I used to get laughed at, cruelly being called 'tummy' instead of Tammy. However, despite the taunts, it still felt good having breasts, hips and a large fat belly when most of my friends at that time were as straight as a rake. It made me feel grown-up, off-setting the naivety I felt at home from having such doting parents, in my body at least I felt like a mature woman. I felt pleased to be overweight just like my mother, and all the other obese middle-aged men and women that I used to admire so much every time we went out shopping or day tripping. I desperately wanted to be like them, and at that impressionable age found myself copying their actions and gestures in an attempt to be more like they were. Sometimes I would deliberately walk slowly, even more so than I needed to so that I could pretend that I was even fatter than I actually was. I would take my time lowering myself down onto seats or standing up, and puff and pant as if I was finding it an enormous effort. At break times I would avoid any games that involved running or chasing, not only because I really did find it painful and difficult, but also because it felt more mature to just sit on a bench and chat with my friends. Even talking about weight issues made me feel more grown-up because I often heard the adults around me discuss them. I remember describing to my friends in detail how I'd grown into a larger dress size or that my parents were putting me on another diet.
In the year before my 19th birthday I put on 3 stone
At Thirteen or Fourteen years old I started to hang around with a new group of friends, who I think I was subconsciously drawn to by virtue of the fact that nearly all of them were either plump or fat. It was through them that I got to know my best friend Sally who although not quite as large as me, was also very overweight and could appreciate much of what I was going through. We would regularly get the bus into town and meet up at McDonald's, where we would while away some time before going off to do a bit of shopping. It was so refreshing for me to hang around with other fat people my own age, I really had such a good time during this period of my life. We would think nothing of eating a burger meal and then going back later for another fries and shake, or moving on to Benny's Bakery for a coffee and Danish. Sally and I would sit and chat about guys we fancied, either boys we knew or sometimes those that just happened to walk past. We both knew we were much too fat to stand any chance of pulling but it certainly didn't stop us from dreaming about it. We were close enough to share many of our inner-most secrets, and although Sally just couldn't comprehend why I so desperately wanted to get even fatter than I already was, she certainly did understand the pleasure that could be had from eating.
All of us put on a lot of weight during this time, but my own weight rocketed from16 stone at 14 years, to 20 ? stone at 16, and a massive 26 stone by the time I was aged 19. In the year before my 19th Birthday I put on 3 ? stone, and although I found the weight gain incredibly erotic and loved my new fat, there were aspects of being so overweight did used to get me down at times. I remember my mother taking me clothes shopping and not being able to find a single pair of trousers or skirt that would fit me in any of the plus size stores. I was 5'5 and had 62" hips. She eventually found me a selection of stretch bottoms in Pants Plus that looked as though they might be suitable, but when it came to trying them on I found myself having real difficulty just getting into them. Stupidly they hadn't built a seat into the changing room, despite the fact that it was supposed to be built for larger women. No matter how I tried, I just couldn't bend down, stand on one leg, and then raise the other high enough to get my feet through the leg holes. I was getting more and more flustered and upset knowing that my mother was impatiently waiting outside, and I kept making things even worse by accidentally dropping the clothes on the floor and struggling to pick them up again. By the time my mother pulled back the curtain to see what was taking me so long I had completely gone to pieces, panicking and tearful, and feeling grossly obese and useless. She briefly attempted to help, but not being an agile person herself she soon called over a female assistant to give me a hand. I expected this to be the most embarrassing experiences of my life and as I wiped back the tears, began to flush bright red. I felt like I was in a complete state. I was probably three times the size of the assistant, with rolls of fat in places where she didn't even have places, wearing a large pair of white underpants that my granny would be proud of, and a floral pattern bra that didn't match and didn't even fit. I rippled and jiggled every time she moved me as she pulled the stretch pants up my super fat thighs and over my enormous belly and bottom. However there was something about her attitude that was very reassuring and comforting, professional to the core and just matter-of-fact about the situation. I soon found myself starting to relax, and then began to actually quite enjoy the experience, realizing that being too fat to dress myself was something I'd often fantasized about. It began to feel so natural and obvious to me that I should need other people to take care of me like this.
As my size increased, finding someone to love and care for me became all the more important in my list of priorities. Nearly all of my friends either had partners or were recently broken up, many having had a string of boyfriends since the age of Fifteen or Sixteen. I was the only one who had still never been out with anyone, and had hardly ever even been kissed, bar perhaps on one or two short lived occasions. What made it worse was that I was still suffering from typical teenage growing pains, having spots on my face and hair so greasy that I had to wash it every day. I knew that I was so fat that my chances of my ever attracting a guy were virtually zero, and yet I still used to go to parties and discos desperately hoping that I would meet someone that would see beyond my body and want the real me. I didn't realize at that time that there were guys out there who would actually relish my huge size. I would spend hours getting ready, anxiously going through all my clothes trying to find something that would fit, and usually settling for a much too tight skirt that would highlight curves in all the wrong places and make me feel uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. I would spend half an hour doing my make-up and then look at my fat face in the mirror, with large fleshy cheeks and double chin, and wonder why I bothered at all. When I arrived I would always be by far the fattest girl in the room, but I would still try to dance the first few songs, despite aching legs and breathlessness, in the hope that I'd get noticed. Then by about half way through the evening I'd be sitting down on my own in the corner with a drink and a large plate of food from the buffet, feeling miserable, and with my friends nowhere to be seen. This happened to me so many times I couldn't count them on my chubby fingers and I began to assume that I would just end up a very fat and lonely old spinster.
Things did change for the better however around 18 months ago, catching me unaware in the most unlikely of places. I've been a member of a Gala Bingo club for several years now and used to go regularly with my mother every Tuesday and Thursday evening. We would always follow roughly the same routine, arriving early so that we could get our meal from the canteen and find a seat before it got too busy. This was important since we didn't fit into any of the table seats and there were only a limited number of bench style seats around the walls. We would always try to get the same place if we could and usually ended up sitting next to Peter and his mother Alice, another fat couple who we got to know quite well over the weeks. I was attracted to Peter right from the start, he was such a nice, genuinely friendly guy, always laughing and making jokes. He was also absolutely huge, my size plus a few more pounds on top, and it was obvious he really loved his food, often getting to the canteen before me for seconds or dessert. We would eat together while we played bingo, sharing chips and drinks, and I knew I'd found a soul mate when I brought the conversation round to my favorite subject of food and weight issues. Peter and I have been together ever since, and although we're still both living with our parents, we see each other nearly every night of the week. He doesn't share all of my weight gain fantasies but he does love me being very fat and we naturally encourage each other to eat just because we love our food so much. It worries me slightly that he'll be too overweight to take care of me properly should we ever move in together but at least for now I still have my parents for that.
Tammy Tummy - May 21st 2006