🐷

That's it

Bloating in this outfit to see if I can bust a seam

A dozen donuts has gotten too easy

It makes me sad when the food runs out. Yes, I might be too stuffed to stand, but that feeling goes away soon enough. The food will digest, I'll be able to walk around again and I won't have this heavy orb that I call my belly weighing me down, swaying and jiggling violently with every step I take. Breathing will be easier, but who wants to take full breaths when short, sharp ones are the real sign that you've truly outdone yourself this time? Who wants to breathe deeply when your lungs could be crushed by the sheer amount of visceral fat suffocating them instead? Who wants to stand when your muscles could be left to atrophy and leave you immobile a lot sooner than you thought? Who wants to be skinny when you could have no other choice but to grind against your own rolls to make yourself cum since you can't reach to do it properly anymore? Who wants to be slim when you could be funnel fed 24/7, turning yourself into a super-morbidly obese slob who's days away from their next heart attack?

Who wouldn't want to ruin their health and become the fattest, greediest hedonist alive? I sure as hell do...help me make it happen?

I love a cute matching set 😍

most people couldn't finish a whole pizza let alone 2 + breadsticks or wings, maybe a sweet treat too.

nobody else would ever think to order 15+ tacos in one sitting.

normal people would be embarrassed to have their fast food order come out in 3 bags

It crept on though, didn’t it? Slowly at first. Jeans tightening, buttons harder to fasten, but it didn’t stop you. You were enjoying yourself too much. Going up a dress size was easier than hitting the gym and dieting.

Your friends started to comment, you just brushed it off with comments about diet culture and being body positive. Anything so you didn’t have to change. But deep down you knew that maybe you had a problem.

Stairs left you exhausted, and walking anywhere was a chore. But still you snacked and the portion sizes grew with your waistline. The day the scale said “Err” you simply put it in a cupboard and never used it again.

One day you caught yourself in the mirror and wondered who that fat girl staring back at you was. You were shocked. And you needed comfort. Comfort which you found in food. You binged and binged.

You want to change but realise you can’t. You’re addicted to food and the effort needed is just too great. It’s easier to sit on the sofa and eat your problems away than the alternative.