Chapter 4 - so professional for such a porker!

I didn't have to wait long. Over the next few weeks, it looked as if she had completely lost control of herself. Her weight ballooned up alarmingly fast- she seemed heavier every morning when she came in.

She was really a sight to see in her uniform. She tiny bell roll transformed into huge, round gut that popped out straight in front of her. It wasn't saggy yet, the fat was too fresh, but the sheer weight of it pushed down her spandex shorts. She had to wear them underneath her gut, and they were getting increasingly less visible beneath its girth. The shorts cut sharply into her thickening thighs, rolling up and digging into her like a pair of too tight underwear. They basically did look like underwear on her now. The top of the uniform wasn't doing its job anymore either. It barely covered her tits and caused plump little rolls both under the top and in her chunky arms. I told people that I had tried to make a special uniform order to get her bigger sizes but they were all on backorder. Obviously I didn't do that. She was glorious to watch, bouncing around the dining room with all her brand new fat on display. She had to have crossed 160, I figured, which looked like a ton of weight on her petite frame.

The other waitresses all felt too awkward to say anything to her, even the b*tchy ones seemed too embarrassed to bring it up. Some of the customers almost seemed to like her with all of her exposed, flappy body. She was still pulling in great tips and no one had complained. I have heard that in other stores, patrons would b*tch and moan to the manager if they got a "fatty" for a waitress. Luckily that didn't happen in our restaurant, probably because she was still so pretty and so good with the public.

Some patrons did seem mean to her though. One night she was serving (probably over-serving) a table of what I assumed were frat guys. They had way too much hair gel going on, popped collars on their polos. One even had on a pooka shell necklace. Where would someone even buy one of those now? But after a few too many rounds, I overheard a distrubing exchange.

"Hey! Tubby Tina! We need another pitcher over here! And maybe some hot wings! If you can resist eating them all before you get to the table!"

Always a great host, Mary shook it off and handled it with grace.

"Actually my name is Mary. What kind of wings were you thinking about?"

"I don't know... some of us don't think about food all f*cking day and night. You should try it, maybe if you thought about other things, like exercising maybe, you wouldn't be such a lard ass!"

I got up to go intervene, but Mary handled it like a champ.

"We have barbecue wings, mild wings, super hot wings, and a mixed plate is always a good choice when you can't decide. Since you don't like to think about food, I would suggest the mixed plate. It doesn't come with celery but I can certainly add it if you would like!"

Well done Mary! I wondered how she wasn't bothered by this, or any of the other snide remarks, or even the fact that she had to spend 12 hours a day in a uniform that highlighted her new fat frame. She seemed entirely ambivalent about the whole thing!

But I saw a different side of her when she came back into the kitchen..