I need to find a new cardiologist. I didn't exactly handpick mine. I had a medical emergency 13 months ago, and she performed my emergency triple bypass. At the time, I was over 600 pounds. Following the surgery, I was able to get down to 555 - 560, but no matter what I did, I couldn't keep the weight off. I settled around 585 for a while. Last December, I got married, and I did indulge on my honeymoon, although I only had one true stuffing. By New Years, I was back at 600. I decided I was going to focus on clean eating (lean proteins, vegetables, salads, lots of water) and activity to the extent that I'm capable of it. I've stayed on the bandwagon (until today) with the occasional treat a time or two a week (and by that I mean a piece of pie, not the whole thing). I also stay within maintenance calories.

Nevertheless, I'm gaining weight. I have a very large girth, well over 100 inches around standing. That limits my mobility in the extreme, and I can't stand for long without my walker. My husband helps me d sitting exercises every day, but I just don't have a big range of motion. I'm about 646 at the moment. I don't have lymphedema... I'm just... FAT.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not unhappy with my size. I actually like my appearance. But I know I have to control my weight, or I could easily be unable to leave the house in a year, maybe less. I definitely don't want that.

My last appointment with my cardiologist was in January, and I was about 600 pounds then. She doesn't have a scale that can accommodate me, so they asked me to estimate my weight. I know exactly what I weigh, and I was honest. She commented on my weight gain before asking anything else. She didn't ask how I was feeling, about my breathing, about my control over my diabetes. She went straight for extra weight and reacted as though I was 200 pounds heavier, not 40-something. Even worse, when I told her what I eat in a day, she refused to believe me. My eyes were stinging with tears the whole time, because I know the truth. I'm not a liar. Otherwise, I would have put 600 down as my weight and not admitted I'm heavier. I quickly got around to refills of my medications, and left. I'll also add, my glucose was 125 and my BP was 140/100, which Is high but pretty reasonable for someone who is super obese, so no alarming indicators based on my actual health.

This evening, I spiraled. Despite my sweet husband trying to distract me, I ordered 5 Big Macs with extra cheese, 2 Crispy Chicken sandwiches, 2 fish sandwiches, 40 chicken nuggets, a milkshake, and a large Coke. I ate all of it, and I felt nauseated, I think because I'm no longer used to eating greasy and fatty foods or consuming so much sodium. It's also unlike me to eat out of sadness. When I was gaining, stuffing was always a happy and festive occasion.

My husband is encouraging me not to guilt myself and reminding me we can reset. And I'm going to ask my primary care doctor for a referral to someone new. I just wish medical professionals didn't take such delight in admonishing, and I wish she had believed me when I told her the truth.

As a very small child, I already had a pot belly, and I remember pushing it out to make it even bigger. I often laid in bed secretly pretending I was very very fat and fantasizing about eating large quantities. I think it's likely some early media inspired some of these fantasies, or maybe it was my mother's fixation on thinness and diet culture. She often would describe certain foods as good or bad, and she focused heavily on losing 5 or 10 lb for special occasions. Somehow, the reverse thought pattern took root in my brain. If restricting food made her as thin as she wanted to be, then eating a lot would make me as fat as I wanted to be. It's no surprise that I'm now a 600 plus pounder, given how long this has been taking up residence in my head..

There's no feeling like drifting off to sleep with your belly completely full, swollen, and heavy.

A few years back, I ate a whole large stuffed crust pizza, a ton of bread sticks, and a party platter of boneless wings. Then, my now-husband fed me a whole cheesecake and helped me into a hot tub. As my muscles relaxed, my belly swelled up and the pressure inside doubled. It was delightful. I continued stuffing after getting out.

Not sure how much you want to gain or how big you want to be. I've always been fat, so in my case, it more a question of whether I wanted to be supersized (which I am). I overcame those concerns by planning for logistical issues. We bought a different vehicle; we took the glass shower doors out of our bathroom; I saved money to buy larger clothes while I was actively gaining. I'm also constantly reevaluating what concessions I'm willing to make and what limitations I'm okay with. I think at the moment, I may have more limitations than I want. They seemed to pile on after 600 pounds. Fortunately, I have a husband who's supportive and helpful if I decide a little weight loss is necessary for me to fully participate in life.

House was a REALLY good show. It definitely distinguished itself from the slew of Grey's Anatomy wannabes around the same time.

Old episodes of 'Cold Case'!

I got fat early in elementary school, much to my mom's chagrin. Even as a kid, I loved to eat and to be full, and I was fascinated when my belly got bigger. By middle school, I was obese, and I just kept getting fatter through high school.

I've always enjoyed food, and I love the feeling of a belly that's been pushed to its limits. That "couldn't contain one more bite" feeling is absolutely rapturous. While I haven't stuffed in a long time, if I could, I'd be packed to my limit all day, every day.

I also like the way I look as a big person. As I've reached extreme obesity, I've become more confident in my appearance.

Finally, there's a "challenge" aspect to gaining. At one point, I lost to my lowest adult weight. Obviously, I disliked it, because I've intentionally put on 450 pounds over the years since. In my regain, I've become verrrrrry round and carry a massive amount of visceral fat for someone my size. My sitting waistline is shockingly big, and I've enjoyed just how large my belly has gotten in proportion to the rest of my "also fat" body. If I could set some kind of world record without decimating my health, I swear I would.

Ive always been fat, but on three occasions, I realized I'd hit a next level. Once was when I could no longer touch the tip on my finger to my belly button. The second was when my belly became too big for me to drive, right around the same time. The third was when I started brushing both sides of standard doorways at all angles.

Fats, processed foods, and carbs, plus fast gains, gave me a huge potbelly.