chapter 10

Nancy no longer knew how much she actually weighed: she had passed the 300 lbs. mark on their scale over a month before but doubted that she could weigh much more than 310 lbs., even with the previous night’s effort, since her weight gain had slowed considerably due simply to the caloric requirements of maintaining her bulk. She wondered if anyone could really appreciate how difficult it was to sustain this effort. Until she had started her campaign, Nancy had little regard for the hours of eating and resulting physical discomfort that fat people had to endure. She had learned early on that the concept of associating being fat with being lazy was mistaken. This was hard work. And relentless, since after making the effort the person then had to carry the effects around with them.

Crossing the 300-pound mark had been something of an event for Nancy. She had felt a certain liberation that her measure was no longer subject to their scale. She had since discovered, however, that there were other measures of a more practical nature by which to assess herself. Clothing was a constant problem. She could no longer fit herself in conventional sizes and had adopted a style that was effectively a loose tent. Properly fitting bras and underwear were a major challenge to find but absolutely critical for stability. She had finally found specially designed support garments that were measured in multiple “x”s. She learned to depend on these elastic contraptions to help hold her gelatinous form together. Otherwise, the independent rhythms that could develop in her body simply from walking down a flight of stairs felt like they could wobble her out of control.

She was also experiencing significant physical limitations. Walking more than a few blocks was difficult. Even standing for a while could be exhausting. Getting in and out of a car could feel like gymnastics. While sitting was her most comfortable position, she had to be careful about what she sat on. The tubular chairs at the office had proven no longer safe unless she sat forward over the legs. And sitting in a deep couch could be embarrassing when she had to roll herself out and climb to her feet.

At 700 pounds, would she be immobilized? If she was immobile, how would she eat? Who would feed her? Suddenly, she wondered about those immensely obese people she read about in supermarket newspapers. When a person got so fat that they could no longer walk, was somebody actually going to the trouble of providing them with an almost constant flow of food? How did they go to the bathroom? There had been a story on the networks recently about a man who had gotten so fat that the side of his house had to be removed to get him out. He had to be carried in a sling, specially made for transporting large fish at an aquarium, and lifted by a forklift to be taken to the hospital. His wife, a woman who probably didn’t weigh more than 125 lbs., was interviewed. She had called the hospital because she was afraid for her husband’s life. At what point did she start to worry? Hadn’t it occurred to her that when he could no longer stand up, that maybe she should stop cooperating by going on numerous daily shopping trips to fast-food restaurants to feed his demands?

Suddenly, Nancy realized that maybe she didn’t really feel hungry anymore. After all, she was that person feeding herself.

She sat down on her bed and took another look at her reflection. Her belly sat squarely where her lap would have been if she could still sit comfortably with her legs together. She could hide her hands and almost her forearms in the creases formed by her rolls of fat.

Sitting, standing, or lying down, she could still feel the weight of the mass of undigested food crammed into her gut. Her breathing was short and shallow as if there was no longer enough room for her lungs to take a deep breath. Nancy wondered if this was what being pregnant felt like. Of course, women seldom gain 190 pounds during pregnancy. She suddenly found herself wondering how much longer this could go on. Should this stop? How much longer would all this take?

She picked up the phone and dialed Kevin’s number at work.

His secretary answered, explaining that Kevin was not available, but he had left a message for her. The message was that she should look in the toolbox.

She got to her feet and went to the closet where they kept the toolbox. Opening the box, she found a letter from Kevin. Very strange putting it in the toolbox and not just leaving it on the counter.

Nancy read the short but complete letter. “We are done. I don’t need anything from the apartment. Send the name of your attorney to my secretary and I will forward it to my attorney. Let’s get this done quickly. I would prefer to never have to look at you again.”

Nancy felt like a weight had lifted.