Chapter 6 - ch6 give and take

Near the end of February, Mrs. Bunton was heading off for a week of vacation down in Louisana, far away from the cold and winds of Winnipeg . It happened that three days of that week I had off from school for study break. Some schools might shut down for a week, but we just got three days. It wasn't like I really wanted to go somewhere, but it seemed a bit of a rip off that we only had a five day break, and I'd be spending most of it alone.

I was a bit down about it all for a while, until it occurred to me that I could have an epic stuffing session. After all, I had all the recipes that Mrs. Bunton had taught me just a couple of weeks earlier, and I needed to practice. And previously I'd gone one and a half days being stuffed, then three days, this time I could stretch it out to five epic days of eating. Heck, even if I had classes on the Monday and Tuesday leading into the break, I could probably stuff pretty well, so I could go a full week! I went out and bought another couple of pairs of loose sweat pants, and started working up a list of foods that I could afford and knew how to prepare.

Mrs. Bunton flew out Saturday afternoon. I drove her to the airport in her car, then went to the grocery store. I went heavy on the potatoes, the hamburger meat, rice, a couple of whole chickens, a cheap roast, and lots of bread, jam, and peanut butter. And of course things to wash it all down with; there was no egg nog left on the shelves, but I did pick up lots of whole milk, some half-and-half, and a dozen cans of apple juice.

My feeling by the end of Saturday night was that stuffing yourself on your own cooking was not nearly as fun as on someone else's. However on Sunday I got into the challenge of it more, making sure I had plenty to eat when I was preparing my next meal. I took the car back out and bought lots of corn chips and salsa, pasta, and prepared sauces, and a bunch of store cake and pastry. I realized I just wasn't interested in baking, so I'd have to settle for the desserts I could get from the store.

Monday I did go to school, wearing sweat pants. Maybe my jeans would have been comfortable enough, but it was a statement of sorts, if only to myself. I took Mrs. Bunton's car, stopped for donuts on the way to the university, and had a couple of peanut and jam sandwiches between each of my classes. That night I cooked myself up a chicken dinner, and managed to eat almost the whole thing. I was impressed, even if the chicken had not been all that big. On Tuesday I had my morning donuts, between class sandwiches, then after it was all done I went to a chinese buffet. I walked in already fairly full, so I couldn't do all that much damage, but I did my best and felt I got decent value for my money--and left so full it was hard to drive home afterwards.

Wednesday and Thursday I didn't even bother with sweat pants, I just stayed in my bath robe. It tended to fall open, exposing my swollen gut, and that was when I noticed that I was getting stretch marks. I was briefly freaked out, then realized what they had to be, and I came to terms with them. I figured they'd make it obvious at the pool that I'd been gaining rapidly, but anyone who saw me regularly was going to pick up on that anyway.

By Friday, I realized that I was bored. Constantly planning my next meal was getting stale, always being so stuffed was getting a bit inconvenient, and while I still liked the sensations, after days straight of them, they were fading into the background. I decided to push through for the rest of that day anyway, but I put on sweat pants and went out to show off my swollen gut.

I went to Polo Park , the biggest mall in the city, and went shopping. I quickly found that the more fashionable stores only carried pants up to a 38 waist, far too small for me. More mass market stores seemed to carry up to a 42, but even those were snug! At Sears I found some 44s that fit well, but accepting that a lot of my current swelling wasn't going to last, I didn't buy them.

Then an idea hit me: could I manage to eat something from every food vendor in the mall? I went and got a good start with a slice of pizza and a burger with fries, then went back for a chinese food combo plate. I took a break by browsing through the book store, eventually picking up a couple of fantasy novels. I parked myself in the food court, read my books, and ever so often went for more food.

By the time the mall closed that night I'd finished one novel and was half way done the other. I'd hit almost every food outlet in the place. And my gut felt like hell from all the fast food. I'd planned a final late night order of pizza, but I couldn't face it. That night I had a horrible time sleeping due to the roiling in my gut. The next morning the fast food started working its way out the other end in thoroughly unpleasant fashion. By the time I picked up a tanned Mrs. Bunton from the airport I was doing a little better, but I was obviously looking pale as she asked if I was doing OK.

By Sunday my appetite was back to normal, or even stronger than ever. I was happy to heavily indulge in Mrs. Bunton's cooking, and filling up on that didn't bother my gut at all. I'd learned a lesson, stuffing yourself on good food was very different from stuffing yourself on crap.

Not having really stuffed since Friday, I thought I'd be OK to wear my jeans on Monday, but they were still tight. Same on Tuesday. I made myself wear them on Wedseday, but ended up unbuttoning them in my afternoon classes. On Thursday I was sure that all the extra food from my week of stuffing must have cleared my system, but they were still tight, and I went back to my sweat pants, and accepted the truth: I'd outgrown my size 42 jeans in just two months.

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That weekend, I asked Mrs. Bunton where to find those fat guy stores. I knew that some places I shopped sold jeans in the size 44 that I was beginning to want already, but I wanted to go buy them from a fat guy store, it just seemed better that way. The store itself was a bit disappointing: the staff were not all that much fatter than me, there were no other customers in it when I was there, and the clothes were disappointingly ordinary and not even all that big--at least that was what I though at first. Then I discovered that while they only had jeans hanging up on the rack as far as size 48, in the shelves lower down the sizes started at 50 and kept going up to a 60. I was feeling pretty fat because I was up to a size 44, but that was another 16inches around! Then, when I tried things on, I found out that here, I was still a 42. In a way I was disappointed, somehow 44 sounded so much fatter, but at the same time, that actually meant that they had clothes for people at least another 18 inches around.

It wasn't that I was aiming to get that fat, or that I could even imagine getting that fat. And certainly being that size had to come with all sorts of difficulties. But knowing that the clothes were there....somehow that mattered. On the bus on the way home, for some reason I got to thinking what my parents would say about me shopping in a fat guys store, what they'd think about stores selling clothes that huge, how they'd react if I told them I was glad those huge clothes were there, just in case I decided to get that big. I was pleasantly surprised that these thoughts didn't bring down my mood, it was more like a story I'd read once or something, nothing personal to me.

That was when I accepted that I really had no good reason to go home to Edmonton for the Summer, assuming that Mrs. Bunton would let me stay for the Summer, that Gord would be OK about sharing the house with me. I could look for a Summer job in Winnipeg more easily than in Edmonton , since I was there. The cost of boarding with the Bunton's for the Summer wouldn't be a big deal, my inheritance was enough to just about put me through University, and I'd landed a modest scholarship to make up the difference, so really all I needed was to cover my costs of living there for the Summer, and put some aside towards a growing wardrobe.

Mrs. Bunton was all for the idea, not least because it would let Gord and I catch up. I got the impression that he'd not had much in the way of close friends during high school, and that she thought the odds were good we'd still get along well. Still, she checked with Gord, and he was apparently fine with it. I got job hunting, and found that the economy in Winnipeg was not nearly as robust as in Edmonton . It didn't help that I wasn't looking for anything too physically demanding and my work experience to date was only in fast food outlets. Still, eventually I landed a position as cashier at the deli/restaurant in a government building downtown. It was only 25 hours a week guaranteed, but there would be additional hours some weeks when other people went on vacation. It wasn't great, but it was enough, and it would leave me with some free time.

I did realize that I might have to tone back my eating. I'd outgrown my 42s shockingly fast, but I'd not worried so much because I'd been thinking I might be living with Mrs. Bunton for around eight months--basically that I should enjoy growing while it was easy. Now I was there for the Summer, and it was feeling like maybe I'd stay here all through University.

Not that I went on a diet or anything, but I tried to avoid the over the top eating, to cut back on what I ate a little bit, and things like that. And I kept up my swimming and tried to ramp up my walking even more. I began to feel like I could control this gaining, if and when I wanted to.