Seems like you need to let all those plans float right out of your head, it’s just too easy and too right to keep eating all those bedside snacks. Isn’t that the whole reason they’re there, after all?
That and all the leftovers, you may as well keep going.
We all know you just want to give into that warm lazy feeling of being a thoughtlessly grazing glutton, to turn your brain off completely and slide into mindless mode. Feeling that full, heavy, distended belly pin you down. Feeling it’s heft, how it’s bigger than you ever thought you’d let it grow.
Slowly waddling past every boundary line, saying you want to slow down, but always yielding to temptation when hungry. And you’re always hungry.
It’s getting so out of hand, but it’s not like you can really help it, or like you really want to. It just feels too good.
Reading this put me in the mood to do something I don’t usually do and beach myself in the middle of the day.
You’re right. It feels so good to give in, to turn myself into a fat bloated mess, to forget I ever had a sharp jawline and athletic little body. It’s getting so out of hand, but worrying about it clearly hasn’t done me any good.
It feels amazing to be in this helplessly stuffed body and the headspace that comes with fullness. Docile, lethargic, accepting of my fate.
I know when the stuffing-induced brain fog lifts I’ll be unsure again. I’ll worry it’s gone too far, that I should reel it in because I don’t want to have to live in an even more fattened-up body. But soon enough I’ll get tired of worrying and shut those thoughts out the only way I know how.
I’ll always end up right back here. It just feels too good.
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