Chapter 4 - assessing the damage

Ana awoke with her left hand still down the front of her pants and the right resting on the top of her tummy, which had settled down from firm beach ball back to soft mound of dough. She sat up with way more effort than it should have taken her and sat there on the edge of the bed for minute slowly recollecting what had transpired that afternoon. At first she naturally went through a bit of denial. It must have been some sort of strangely erotic nightmare, plus if she had really eaten that much she wouldn’t be as hungry as she was right then. The denial did not last long and slowly transmuted into a low boiling panic. ‘Holy shit. What does James think of me now? Where does this mean for us? He can no longer deny what a fat helpless pig his wife is.’
Ana stood up and walked over to the mirror to take account of the damage done. She was a sloppy mess. Her trusty crusty sweatpants began loose at the bottom but as her eyes travelled up the fabric came into more and more contact with flesh until at her upper thighs they were like dingey cotton sausage casings. The waist band was deeply sunk in around nearly the entire of her hips giving her two bulging love handles. Her belly was on the verge of spilling over and hiding the waist band all together. The sight of all this gave her the unfortunate impression of soft serve ice cream sitting atop a cone. Needless to say her poor tank top was not helping things. As much as she tried she couldn’t even get it to cover her belly button. Plus the thing displayed all the evidence of all her binges during the past week through grease stains, chocolate syrup, and ice cream drippings. She finally admitted defeat, at least in that category, and peeled the thing off and tossed it to the side. She turned sideways in the mirror, lifted up her protruding pooch, and dropped it, watching with disgust and horror (and some wear deep down a tingle of pleasure) as it gave a couple bounces and then settled back into it’s position as her most prominent feature. At least her boobs were bigger. ‘James could at least be grateful for that. His wife has let herself become a greedy, unreserved, fat slob, but at least she’s got great tits,’ she thought to herself ironically. She decided to take off her bra as well, both as an attempt to make her focus on her two conventional assets and also because it was now way to small and extremely uncomfortable, squishing her boobs and digging into her soft sholders. Even her arms had gotten a share of the haul. They no longer had any sort of definition. Just perfectly round, pudgy, and just ever so slightly dimpled cylinders. She had earned herself a second chin and her rounder cheeks still bore the evidence of the mornings unhinged feeding frenzy.
She stared at herself in the mirror for quite some time. Her eyes traveling up and down her swollen, overfed body over and over again, surveying the damage. She never imagined it would come to this. It started out as just a couple little guilty binges. Cheat days. Some innocent indulgences, but it had spiraled until she had lost all control. She was a slave to this gut, which was once just a modest pooch and now was a greedy, insatiable void of grease and cream. Always hungry, always whispering to her, ‘Adding a shake to the order isn’t gonna make that big of a deal… oh, and since you’re ordering a shake, you might as well make it a large. You know you’ll wish you did once it’s in me’. Causing her so many problems, but always rewarding her with that fleeting pleasure.
But this was it. Surely James wasn’t gonna let this go on any longer, and she wasn’t going to sacrifice the relationship for some weirdo food fetish. She would cut out the binges. Get active. Maybe start jogging? ...Uh maybe not that. Maybe like try out those bike machines where you can work out while sitting down. She always see’s those people using those at the gym by Los Amigos, that place with the best carne asada fries in town. Yeah! She can go to the gym and then she’ll definitely earn a plate of carne asada fries. Extra sour cream and a horchata! Wait, no! She was getting off track. She would hit the for a while, slim down, then, uh, maybe she could earn some carne asada fries… But gym first. Definitely gym fir-
*gurgle*
She immediately snapped back into the present, reached down and grabbed her belly with both hands, “Jesus dude, don’t you ever take a break? You’re gonna have to wait a bit. You just had the biggest meal of your life a couple hours ago.”
*gurgle*
Well, like diet or no, she was gonna have to eat sometime, but just a light snack for right now. She picked up a ***odie off the floor, put it on and glanced at herself in the mirror. The results were not what she had hoped for. The hoodie was purchased well before her marriage and subsequent loss of self-control, so only made her look a bit pregnant. She tried to adjust the fabric is all different directions, but it only accentuated her ponch in different ways. She pulled that hoodie off, tossed it aside, and grabbed one of James’ from out of the closet. This one achieved the desired result. Her gut did press against the fabric slightly at its apex, but James could easily mistake that for just an anomaly of fabric. She triumphantly patted her belly (which needless to say, was not too far from the hoodie’s surface), quite satisfied with her ruse. Then she went into the bathroom, cleaned her face and put her greasy hair into a bun. ‘Hell yeah, this is the girl James will remember’, she thought to herself, ignoring the round face and double chin which were not features on the Ana six months ago.
As she prepared herself to face James her tummy let out another gurgle and she knew it was time for her to get out there.