Mini Blueberry

like. it’s still happening fast enough that it’s undeniable and you still feel the instant stark differences— after all, it’s easy to remember starting this morning and walking around, when by the end of the day, you can barely touch the ground with both feet at the same time. but at 1 new pound every 30-60 seconds, it also happens slow enough that you’re forced to really feel each new size.

for an hour, all you can vaguely feel is your pants getting tighter, your thighs getting thicker, your gut getting firmer. It’s almost easy to write it off as severe bloating, but only for that first half hour. After that, you just have to listen to the litany of stressed thread as you shift and move carefully, afraid your body is going to somehow tear your clothes. but when your middle is three, four times as wide as your shoulders a few hours later, you feel every new inch as you walk around, or change positions in your chair. it happens slow enough for you to experience sitting down and trying to stand back up with a newly pear-shaped inflated body, but fast enough for it to be no easier to get back up when you try again than it was that first struggle. you can walk around and feel out every change in your body, noticing and appreciating just how massive you are now, without realizing that you’re still not done expanding. maybe you get stuck somewhere— in between the arms of a chair, in a tight corner of the house, in between two pieces of furniture. Your posture changes too, as your growing midsection starts to dominate your frame, until you can’t even rest your arms fully against your sides

you slowly lose your ability to walk, so you waddle, and when your stomach has grown to be so wide that it starts overtaking your thighs and upper arms, you can barely even do that. still, this happens slow enough that you’re stuck wondering if you should eat dinner or not. It’s been at least eight hours at this point, and if it doesn’t slow down soon, you won’t be able to walk to your kitchen later. You may even try to swallow some food, feeling how you now have to wrestle with your own swollen body to get your hand all the way to your mouth, when this morning, you were debating whether it would be embarrassing to have to unbutton your pants when your stomach was feeling a little bloated. Eventually, you strain and strain and strain, but you can’t get your hand all the way to your mouth.

and you can keep trying to waddle around, not fully realizing that you’re losing your ability to bend your knees more and more with every step until you suddenly find that your waddle has turned into more of a rocking motion. The first time your crotch and lower gut brush the floor as you stubbornly try to move around, you’re shocked. It doesn’t happen again for a little while, so you assume it was a random occurrence. But then it starts happening every other, then every time you shift your weight back and forth to move around, until it’s clear that your feet can barely touch the ground anymore. Still, it’s all happening slowly enough that you can still convince yourself you can get used to this, and that you don’t need anyone to help you waddle— or roll. Your double chin might be taking over your lower jaw and your collarbones, but you’re not immobile.

Eventually, of course, you’ll push off from one foot, and start rolling forward, only to not land on the other foot. Eventually you’ll have swollen up into a big sphere, your hands and feet totally helpless to do anything except flap around stubbornly. Even then, you’ll still try to use that to move yourself— you could walk not even a full day before this!— only to find that you’re still growing, your wrists and ankles and palms and backs of your fingers and toes expanding more and more, until you can barely move them at all.

I really wish people put more effort into this than just mindlessly scrolling. what you see is free, the least you can do is pay with praise and appreciation

Slow down, fatten up

Hm~ wonder what this program does...

I've done musical theater before. In one show a few dance partners were near the front of the stage doing choreography. One move was the girl jumping in place and the guy lifting the girl through the jump. I was in one of those lucky pairs (I LOVE to dance). My partner was taller than me and unfortunately didn't have much upper body strength. The girls were told to push down on the guys shoulders to help with the jump/lift. Again tall guy... so I couldn't push down well enough, I can't jump for crap and the guy can't lift me for crap either. I was not getting much height at all so of course the director points it out. All of the other partners are doing it just fine, everyone looks great. I practiced and practiced and practiced and it just wasn't working. The choreographer ends up comparing me to this other girl who was the size I used to be before gaining weight and basically telling me how great she can do it. Her partner was I think 6'5" (at least) and looked like a lumberjack. He was BUILT. The choreographer had me practice with him once. Of course he was way too tall for me to push down on his shoulders, but being a built guy he was strong enough to lift me through my jump. (Which was astonishing to me since at the time I saw myself as humongous.) I didn't learn anything by practicing with him because I didn't really do anything different. But this choreographer would constantly say look at how Jill (name change) does the jump and she gets the most height. I told the choreographer I'm not good at jumps. I wasn't making an excuse, I was trying to explain I need some extra help learning this part. Well she had a bad day or something because in one of the evening emails (we'd get production notes via email) she completely went off on me for making excuses for not being able to jump "and yadda yadda yadda." I kid you not she said "yadda" and called me out in front of the entire cast and production crew. I was already embarrassed I wasn't doing it well and tying it to my size as part of the problem. So, yeah, please make this feel like a teen movie and go off about it in front of everyone, confirming for everyone I'm the heffer they already think I am (no one has ever called me a heffer btw, just my ED). Since my dance partner was a competitive dancer, he could jump with ease and we tweaked our part with him jumping up in the air versus me. And then the story ends with me fracturing my ankle after the first week of shows because I'm clumsy and the choreographer taking my place and not being able to jump very high and the director not making any comments and me later finding out Jill didn't make any effort to jump at all during that part because she's tiny and her partner is a lumberjack.