Chapter 1 - Part One: Freshman 50, Prologue

It all started with a piece of pie. I found a time when my mom wasn't looking to sneak into the kitchen for a bigger slice of coconut cream pie. I had a small sliver at the table as we celebrated Thanksgiving, but after the dressing down I had earlier that morning, I didn't dare indulge right in front of my mom. It was my first time home from college freshman year and as my mother so indelicately put it, I had already gained the freshman fifteen in the first 3 months of school year.

It was actually 21 pounds, according to the scale at home and I was aghast myself. At this rate, I would be 50 pounds heavier by the end of the school year. I could tell the effects of the studying and snacking, partying and pizzas and the all you can eat dining halls without a scale. I had to use money from my campus job to buy jeans a size up when the weather turned, but I didn't expect to come home, pull out my big coat and find it could barely Zip over my expanded belly and bosom.

My rail thin for life mother couldn't comprehend it. I took after her mother, who was curvy at best in pictures from her youth and now a generous grandmother figure with an ample bosom and rolls to fill out her frame. Like her, the first place I gained weight was in my chest. While the pants had gone up one size, the bra had grown two cup sizes and I had taken to wearing a larger sports bras rather than spilling over the bra I had purchased just a month ago. I promised her I would get to work on getting in better shape as soon as I got back to campus. She was pleased to hear that but reminded me that it would be even easier if I was restrained in my eating today.

So I filled my plate like hers. A large leafy salad, several slices of white meat turkey, and just a spoonful each of mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. But Thanksgiving was one of the few times of the year that I got to eat my grandmother's coconut cream pie. While not a traditional Thanksgiving dish, my Grandma adored coconut cream pie and my uncle and I were the only other ones in the family who liked. Since Uncle John would be wintering down in Florida by Christmas, Thanksgiving was when the pie made it's appearance. That and my birthday were the only times I got to eat it each year.

I took a small sliver for my plate, but even then I could see my mother frowning from down the table. So after dinner, when she was busy gossiping with her sister, I slid into the kitchen to get a larger slice. I had pulled out a plate and was about to cut a hefty serving when I heard the door open behind me.

I swung around, expecting my mother, but was pleasantly surprised to find Uncle John, grinning.

"Hey kiddo, I was hoping to find you, and that pie, in here."

"Grab another plate and I'll cut you a slice."

We stood in the kitchen, shoveling pie in our fave and extolling it's virtues and shaming the rest of our family who didn't appreciate it.

"Ellie, I've been meaning to ask you a favor."

"Ask away" I said, between bites of rich coconut custard, flaky crust, and creamy topping.

"You know how I've gotta have this bunion surgery in the summer," he began. We had all heard about his bunion and how he was supposed to have it as soon as possible but he couldn't get it scheduled before he left for Florida. Something about wanting a surgeon up here at Mayo but needing to get his 180 days in Florida for tax purposes. I had been chewing my salad and tuned out most of the details.

"Well, when I get that done in May, I won't be able to use my left foot for driving. And you know both the Mustang and the Ranger are manuals." I shoved in another bite, preparing to be asked to be his personal driver this summer. But he surprised me.

"So I'm wanting to switch out the Mustang and the Rogue that's down in Florida. But even now it hurts too much for me to make that drive. So if you aren't doing anything over spring break, could I pay you to drive the Mustang to my condo and then drive the Rogue back?"

"I figure it'll take about 3 days down and 3 days back, so you'd have 3 days to enjoy Florida at my place. And I'll pay for everything, gas, hotels, meals, and how about $1,000 for using your spring break to help your favorite uncle."

I reached my fork down to grab another bite of pie so I would have time to think while I chewed this over, but to my surprise I had already emptied my plate.

"Here, take mine!" Uncle John insisted and pushed his nearly uneaten plate into my hands. "With this bum foot, I'm not getting as much exercise and I can't keep eating like I do." He patted his belly which was protruding a bit more than usual, but hard to tell if that wasn't an effect of the Thanksgiving dinner.

Driving and Florida, making $1,000 all sounded reasonable. And as I thought about my mother's near hysteria earlier today, what better than a few days on the beach to motivate a diet. But a diet that would start tomorrow, as I was already halfway through the generous slice he had forced upon me after I had already eaten mine.

"Sure, it's a deal. Maybe we'll even find some great coconut dessert place."

"Oh, don't you worry. I will make sure we have only the finest coconut based food."
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Uncle John enthusiastically began trip planning just a few days after Thanksgiving. Because I didn't have any Friday classes in the spring semester, I only needed to be around until noon Friday to finish my midterm paper. He plotted a route that would take 3.5 days down and 2.5 days back, working around when my classes resumed on the Monday evening after spring break to maximize my time in Florida.

He had me added as an authorized user to his credit card, he made hotel reservations, he scheduled an oil change and tire rotation for the Mustang, and he even sent me a list of recommendations for meals at various stops along the way. Uncle John is an avid car guy, so until his bunion began bothering him a few years back, he would always drive down to his condo in Florida and was excited to share his favorites with me.

With no kids, he decided to get a jump on retirement by buying a condo in Florida and wintering there. For the past decade he's gone down after Thanksgiving and returned in May, working his job as a software engineer remotely before that became popular in the pandemic.

Because I was the only one of his nieces to take him up on his offer of learning to drive a stick shift, I cemented my place as his favorite after already having an early lead with our mutual love of coconut cream pie. In many ways, I got along better with him than my own parents, so I was looking forward to spending the week off on the road and visiting him instead of spending time with my parents.

Especially my mom. She would be so disappointed to see how I had fallen off the diet I had started right after Thanksgiving. I had come back to campus and pinned up a photo of the beach to remind me of my goals. Instead of binging Twizzlers while studying, I nibbled on Carrot sticks. I didn't let the pressure of finals get to me, and even took walks instead of stress eating. I used the time off at winter break to spend a few hours at the gym everyday, which made my mom beam. By mid-January, when classes started, I had lost 12 pounds and felt confident enough to order a two piece bathing suit for my days in Florida.

It only took a few weeks into the semester before my resolve crumbled. I was spending more time at the gym than studying and it showed in my my first quiz in Calc2. I drowned my sorrow at the dining hall and then dispatched the better part of a Quart of ice cream back in the dorm room. I was bloated and sad but also a part of me felt relief at the familiar feeling of a belly Taut from overeating. I didn't realize how it's distended, slightly aching feeling had become like a security blanket for me until rubbing it that night. As I tried to quell the protest of such a violent stuffing after weeks of rabbit food, I felt a strange almost hypnotic calm come over me as I drifted to sleep.

From then on the diet and gym were gone as I focused on my classes and digging my grades out of failure in Calc2. I felt good about the midterm I had taken a few days before the Florida trip began, but less good about spending any time at a beach or pool. While studying over the weekend, I had mindlessly eaten plate after plate of chips in the cafeteria until one of matronly workers tapped me on the shoulder and let me know they were closing.

"Honey, I know you are working hard on that math. So I boxed you up some snacks to go."

She handed me a to-go box stuffed with Tortilla chips and two styrofoam cups of queso. I thanked her profusely and took them and my books back to the dorm. My roommate was still out at a party so I sat on my bed, turned on SNL and started in on my chip box while working on a practice testm It wasn't until I looked at the last chip that I realized how much I had eaten, but the truly shameful moment was when I took the remaining queso cup and drank the remainder, not letting a drop of it go to waste.

"Look what a pig you are," I scolded myself. "How much do you think that set the diet back?"

A part of me didn't want to think about it but deep within me, I had to know.

I dared to step on the scale and saw it flicker
189. I had started college curvy, with broad shoulders, but carried my 160 pounds well. At Thanksgiving I was 181, but worked my way down to 169 by the mid-January start of class.

Somehow, I had gained 20 pounds in 8 weeks?! Not only that, I was now the heaviest I'd been in my life.

The small rational part of my brain reminded me that the 169 weight was first thing in the morning and now it was past midnight and I had just binged chips and queso for hours, so it probably wasn't quite that bad. But I had to see how bad it looked.

I dug out the bikini from the closet and looked at the damage. The bottom piece was high-waisted board shorts so it pressed in tightly at my belly button, compressing the widening spare tire of my lower belly while thrusting my upper gut higher and creating deep love handles. It also compressed my thighs, making them look like sausages in casings but hiding some of the new red stretch marks that trailed down from my hips. I would have tried to suck in but with all the food in my stomach, I felt like the pressure might make me throw up.

The top fit a little better, if nothing else because I always upsized to accommodate my chest, but even then I was close to having my boobs spill over. And I could see the meatier look to arms and the beginnings of a double chin forming.

As I examined myself closer, I heard sounds down the hall of my dorm and realized my roommate was coming home. I dashed to turn the lights off and jump into bed, bikini still on, throwing the covers over myself and the empty chips and queso.

I lay there in the dark, pretending to be asleep, while gentling massaging my stomach, which protested the continued wearing of the board shorts. I quietly pulled the waist down, freeing my lower roll of fat and giving some relief. I could also feel the shorts tight against my crotch and it was giving competing feelings of pleasure to the pain in my Taut belly.

As my roommate left to head to the bathroom to shower after her night out, I found one hand on my belly and the other between my legs. Each of them quietly massaging, until the door closed. When I could barely stand it any longer, I heard the shower start and I jammed both hands in my crotch, rocking back and forth for just a few thrusts before I felt the wave of pleasure build and erupt so forcefully I gasped aloud. Something about the shame of my failed diet, the fullness of my growing belly, and the sharp pressure of those board shorts did something to me that no boyfriend or even previous solo exploration had produced. Before I lost conscious to the post coital brain cocktail and the food baby in my belly, I peeled off the bikini and began to imagine a different kind of Florida vacation. One with lots of pie