chapter 6: march

Something is going to have to change, and soon, because if I gain much more weight my sweat pants are no longer going to fit around my butt.

The peril of having a bigger than average behind, I suppose, but still. The eleven pounds I've put on in the past month have gone STRAIGHT to my rear, and I can feel the sweats pull tight across my wider hips and rounder ass, to the point that even alone, in my apartment, eating yet another jar of peanut butter with a spoon while I wait for Jeanie to arrive, I'm blushing.

I need to buy new sweatpants, I know I do, but I shouldn't have to, I'm working to lose the weight, I just gotta get over the hump and these will fit again. So why waste the money? It's not like anyone sees me like this. Just Jeanie, who I trust, and Paul, who...

Works that fat.

Makes me hungry.

...I splash cold water in my face, trying to ignore my sudden, unexpected erection, and I'm finishing the jar of peanut butter (I bought eight jars last time I was grocery shopping, I have no idea how I'm going through so much) when Jeanie buzzes up from downstairs to be let in.

Gives me a minute to clean the place up, at the very least, before she arrives.

Her eyes go wide as I greet her at the door in sweats and a t-shirt that fit forty pounds ago, and I go red, hands clutched in front of me in a way I hope is hiding the fact that I'm at half-mast in pants too small to hide within. Either it works, or she's too polite to say, gawking for a moment at my bloated body dressed in far too little, and then maintaining strict eye contact to put me at ease.

"Hey Brian," she tells me by way of greeting, "you ready to do this?"

"Yes," I tell her, "absolutely."

"Cool, let me get changed into my workout clothes, and we'll head down together..."

-

I know it shouldn't, it's wrong to take comfort in the misfortune of others, but it does calm me a little to see that Jeanie's workout clothes don't fit her either.

The leggings are tight across her own hips, thighs and rear, and the top, barely a sport bra, is straining to contain her chest. Between this and the significant muffin top hanging over the waistband of her tights, there's no hiding the fact that she's gotten chubby, though nowhere near to the same degree at me.

"What do you think you're looking at, ***?" she asks, and laughs, but she's flushed as my eyes appraise her, and I blush back at the realization she's caught me, "It's not like you haven't gotten chubby. What have you gained, all told? Twenty pounds? Twenty-five?"

I mumble something unintelligible, hoping that she'll let the question pass, but she's not willing to let me off the hook, which, given the fact that she just caught me staring at her soft, bare midriff, I suppose is only fair.

"Forty," I tell her, "I was one-ninety-five in October last year, and I'm two-thirty-three now. Like I said the other day, I've been hungry lately..."

I blush, and make a mental note to start wearing a jock if I'm going to keep working out with Jeanie, lest she notice me at half-mast while I'm trying to justify my weight.

"Oh my god," she almost yelps, "forty? That's insane! I thought I was bad off, but I've only gained seventeen, you've blown me out of the water, Brian, well done!"

"I'm a foot taller than you, too..." I mutter, but its' a weak excuse and we both know it. Fortunately, this time Jeanie does let me off the hook.

"Okay," she tells me, bright eyed and bushy tailed, "let's head downstairs and work some of this off, then, we have Christmas weight to lose!"