This morning, we made a huge pan of hash browns (the frozen kind worked fine), fried with onions. That was topped with a whole pound of turkey sausage, scrambled up with a little garlic and basil, a pound of grated cheddar cheese, and four fried eggs, still runny inside. I ate 95 percent of it, while he had a small plate.

Because I'm a fat fatty, I also had bread grilling in butter, a huge bowl of fruit, and a chocolate banana smoothie, of course, but we both agreed our hash brown concoction was delicious!

I get an actual tingling sensation in my brain when I know I'm going to be stuffed, and I feel it right between the eyes and in my temples.

Conversely, when I get a full as I can possibly get, I can feel the area around my outtie belly button pulling, and I'm obsessed with that sensation.

There are plenty of physical challenges that go along with being fat, especially very very fat, in public.

By the time I hit 400, I had to be mindful of spaces and plan carefully. Does a restaurant only have booths? Is the seating arrangement spaced out enough I can get around without knocking into other diners? Is the Uber that's on the way easy enough to get in and out of?

After 500 lb, there were even more considerations. When my husband and I got married, I was right at 585. We had to plan out every aspect of our honeymoon, including bringing my own bariatric wheelchair to the airport because we knew even their largest chair wouldn't work for me. We bought additional plane seats for me, and I sat in the front row because of how much my stomach bulges out in front. I had my own seat belt extenders, because even the airlines extenders, available upon request, are not big enough to go around me. We ensured I would have a walk-in shower and requested bed reinforcement, which they were able to accommodate. I shipped my own bariatric shower chair ahead, so it would be waiting when we arrived.

Now, at 800 lb, travel would be impossible. I haven't left the house since the last 70 lb or so, because a) I have no clothing that covers me at the moment, and getting out of my front door is very painful. It's not impossible, but we have to manipulate my body and my fat in such a way I don't get injured. I also have to be mindful, if I were to go to a business like a restaurant, that I'd need to remain on my scooter. I don't trust other chairs, even two of them, to hold my weight. Moreover, I don't want to be injured in a fall. I have fallen in my home before (I was about 660), and firefighters had to help my husband get me up.

As far as the social aspect of being fat in public, I've always enjoyed the stares, particularly if I'm eating a big meal while fat. I wore bikinis on my honeymoon, and being gawked at was a turn-on for both my athletic, fit husband and me.

As I've gotten even bigger, people tend to look much less than they did 200 or 300 lb ago. It's almost like my size is so extreme, people avert their eyes, as though extreme obesity is contagious. I do catch children staring though, and I always make eye contact with them and give them a reassuring smile. Usually, they smile back. I think there's a lesson there that even people who look very different are people too.

One last observation... People tend to overestimate my age, particularly if my hair is pulled back. I have a youthful face, but it's very uncommon for a 31-year-old to have gotten this big and to need a mobility scooter. Unless I have my long hair down, fully styled, people often think I'm an older relative of my husband's.

I wanted to be fat since before kindergarten. I realized very young that if I ate a lot, my belly would bulge out. I had a proper pot belly by the time school started and became obese by fourth grade, despite my mother's best efforts. I remember gaining so much weight over the summer that all the kids were amazed by it on the first day of school. I couldn't fit in a regular desk and needed to sit at a table, and I could barely keep up in PE. I got poked in the belly a few times, which of course I loved. The teasing just served as motivation to get fatter.

At one point, my mother took me to the doctor for help losing weight. He suggested a diet, but it was no use. At one visit, I remember my mom being very upset because, instead of losing weight, I had put on 10 lb and hit 150 at 9 years old, outweighing her.

I'm happy for you and your journey! Sending you all the well-wishes for the level of comfort and mobility you're hoping for!

I've been using chip clips for my sheets! My husband asked, 'Are these from the potato chip bags?"

I said, "Babe, I ATE the potato chips.". 🤣

You're very fortunate! I'm going to have some dresses made, kaftan style. At the moment, it's t-shirts, and a bed sheet tucked under my bust if I don't want my belly exposed. I also made little cuts in the elastic of my shorts, so I can put them on when I absolutely have to.

Wanting to be fat is a part of some of my earliest memories. Genetically, I must be predisposed to a protruding stomach (Both parents are thin, but one of my grandmothers was quite plump when she was in her '50s, with a very big belly. She eventually lost weight, but she was always my mother's example for me: "You don't want to be as fat as Grandma, do you?"

I had a pot belly that my parents thought was cute when I was 3 or 4 years old. The pressure to be thin started by first grade, but I didn't want to lose weight. I remember playing with my belly in secret and pushing it out as far as I possibly could. I would also put pillows in my clothing so I could feel even fatter.

I was the heaviest kid in school as early as I can remember. At the end of my first grade year, I had a solo in a school program for which I had to dress up as a flower. My costume consisted of a leotard and a ruffled skirt made to look like leaves. My best friend had a similar costume, and her mother made both of ours. I remember feeling overjoyed when I went to her house to try mine on, and I had gained enough weight it didn't button around my belly. My friend's mom had to put in another "leaf". My mother was there, and after that occasion, she made it her mission for me to become active that summer. The thing is, I was already active. I liked to play outside. I liked backyard games like badminton and volleyball... but I also liked to eat, particularly when I ate enough that my stomach bulged out even more.

By the summer before my fourth grade year, I had another friend whose mom was showed affection and hospitality through food. My friend, ironically, was not heavy, but I loved going to their house because of ample snacks and giant portions at meals. I also started taking snacks from cabinets at home, stashing them in an arts and crafts box under my bed, and belly stuffing at night. Eventually, my parents realized what I was doing and padlocked everything, but by that point, I had put on so much weight I couldn't fit in a regular desk when the new school year started. Initially, the other kids teased me, but I loved it, so their teasing served as encouragement instead and lost power for anyone who intended it in a mean spirited way. My classmates started giving me anything packed in their lunches they didn't want. It was fun for them to see how much I would eat, and fun for me to get super full. When my teacher realized what was happening, she put a stop to all sharing of food, using food allergies as a reason.

My weight really bothered my mother, and I remember her telling me boys wouldn't like me if I was heavy. In retrospect, that's a troubling rationale for a 9 or 10-year-old girl. (Clearly, it also wasn't true, because look who's happily married now!) It also wasn't a deterrent. I kept getting bigger and bigger, and I hit 200 lb in middle school and 300 lb in high school. I eventually got a summer/after school job at an old fashioned diner, where I had a discount and sometimes got to eat free. We wore short sleeved button downs, but I got too fat for the uniforms. I remember wearing the largest size they could order, and the buttons gaping across my belly. Eventually, they let me wear any shirt that fit the same color.

In college, I was thrilled I could eat as much as I wanted when I wanted, without my mother looking over my shoulder or staring at my expanding midsection. I would stuff my face in the dining hall and buy as much food as I could afford from the restaurants around campus. One of the dorms had a little convenience store that also had hot food, like what you might find at a gas station. I ate so many hot dogs and taquitos once sitting in my dorm room that I had to unbutton my pants to let my belly grow. They literally never fastened again. I think I was around 325 when I started school and 370 when I came home at Thanksgiving. My appetite had also increased so much, my mother stopped me after my fifth or sixth fully loaded plate. Of course, I ventured back into the kitchen at night and kept filling my belly with leftovers.

My relationship with fat is truly lifelong. People I knew in childhood might be surprised at just how big I am, but they certainly wouldn't be shocked that I'm obese. I had another high school classmate who was also big though not quite as heavy. She has since gotten into fitness and is now probably a size two. Clearly, I've taken a dramatically opposite path!

I've had an immense weight gain this year, and I'm now what anyone would call ultra super-sized. Ever since I hit 500 lb a couple of years ago (and I'm much bigger now), I've had to special order all clothing or have them made. I carry my weight in my belly, and I have a have a huge side roll- probably about 18 in thick-- that wraps around my back. As a result, when I sit, which is 97% of the time, my whole midsection swells out, making my girth even bigger.

Before I put on more weight this year, I was buying t-shirts and sweatpants from a men's retailer, King Size, and I had a few dresses custom made. However, the retailer only goes up to a size 10x, which is now too small for me. I ordered a 13x from a British retailer (cost a fortune for t-shirts and stretchy shorts). Then, my weight blew up, and those also now no longer cover my whole body. I have no choice but to leave my entire belly and sides completely exposed.

Most of the time, that's fine with me, as I rarely leave the house, and when I do, it's with great difficulty, but there are occasions when I'm going to want to cover up. If family visits, I'd like to have something that fits. When I'm on Zoom calls, I'd like to be able to join without taking extreme caution that I'm not showing more than it's professionally appropriate. I currently use a blanket or bed sheet to cover what clothing won't.

Is anyone else in the situation, or do you have someone in your life who is? How do you handle it? Thanks in advance for your insights.

Yes! Thongs work for me because they go between the toes and don't wrap around the width of your foot. I've outgrown every enclosed pair of shoes I own. Then again, if I do leave the house I need my scooter or bariatric chair, so it's not like I'm pounding the pavement!

I completely relate to that. My hands and feet, though they've grown, don't look like they belong to an 800 pound person. 500 pounds maybe, but not quite my size.

My face was also quite thin until I hit 450-500. Now I have very fat cheeks and a big double chin, but it's still not as round as one would think it might be at my weight.