whispers

Morning routine

I heave my body out of bed, and watch myself struggle against my stomach mass in the mirror across the room. I look at how pathetic I’ve become, it’s embarrassing. I waddle from bed to kitchen heaving and huffing, sometimes needing an inhaler for my obesity induced asthma. I get my prize from the kitchen and begin to shovel it past my chubby cheeks. I start to zone out and develop a vacant stare of mindless bliss and ecstasy. I eat for an hour or so, upon waking my poor belly is so hungry.

feeding my wingstop addiction

I want my fat to be even more in my way

My daily life 💕

I drink them in 3 bottles of 600ml, it totals about 6000 cal. With food I usually aim for 6 meals. All unhealthy, either fast food or butter soaked sugar dusted freezer food. My meals are big and multiple courses of different things to try. With a few snacks throughout the day it makes for a near constant source of eating and emotional fulfilment. By the end of the day I feel like I’m carrying a massive balloon ball. I’m sweating and barely coherent, just laying on my side, stomach spilling onto the bed. It aches to move. Sometimes I need to sit upright from the immense swelling of my distended stretched out stomach. It hurts, I cradle my poor bursting belly and rub the achey cramps away until I fall into food coma.

Heart attack, or bursting my stomach sack. In my final hour as I lay there completely engulfed by my fat, I feel fear knowing the nurse won’t arrive for a few hours, and I’m too fat to get up and use the phone. So I just sit there grabbing my chest, helpless to stop my cardiac arrest. So I keep stuffing the cupcakes beside me into my mouth instinctively out of sadness and frustration with myself, I eat. My final moments of life, as the heart spasms get stronger, my mouth is packed full of cake, that’s all my life is worth, just one more bite, that’s everything to me. Burry me in a really wide custom made coffin for my overly engorged size. Hell if I could have it my way, engrave PIG on my headstone and send me off with a burger stuffed half into my porky face fat

My poor food balloon, I can hardly move it’s pathetic 🥵😳

I’m literally spiralling towards super morbid obesity. I feel my heart race as I eat until I’m numb and dazed. I accept it every time I grab my cellulite ridden belly hang, give it a wobble and understand that I’m too far gone. I can barely move, everything is excruciating when on my feet, every heavy step, I ache just getting out of bed. I need help with such basic things it’s absolutely embarrassing.

My care worker/nurse does the hard stuff that requires movement and helps me with stuff Im too obese to do alone. She’s lovely and makes my massive meals for the freezer/fridge + cleans everything for me + clears the takeout bags. My life these days is four walls and a mattress. I’m more obese than I ever thought I could get. I don’t get up, I ask for help, because I know what’s good for me. I stuff myself unhealthy, my stomach comically large as I beg for another box of donuts to be brought up. it reminds me to slow down, sleep, eat, give up and get more docile and complacent. Let go, forget anything that doesn’t involve food.

Lessening independence, learning to rely on nurses/careworkers to help me live at my size. Can barely lift myself anymore so it’s easier to have help! This is real death feederism💖💕

I’ve been laying in bed for 3 months with a shoulder injury. I’ve done nothing but eat and watch documentaries, my lower belly is a thick slab of fat that audibly slaps my thigh meat. It’s embarrassing what I’ve done to my body. My double chin fat sack rests against my tits that are pushed up my my poor swollen bursting stomach mass. Some days I eat until it hurts, for hours on end one thing after the other until I can barely get up after roughly 12 hours of snacks and takeout. I walk out cradling my poor overfed stomach ball, resting it on the gate, I wait for the uber eats driver to drop off my 6th meal today. I can’t hide that I look 7 months pregnant, morbidly obese with a tubby swollen face to match. It’s pathetic how desperate I am for food regardless of having just eaten.

When I go to the drs, they weigh me, they measure my stomach and arms. They gently recommend diet plans, they ask me to consider my health and that the momentary satisfaction isn’t worth being unable to stand within the next 5 years at most. I’ve been recommended dietitians and therapists.

Love this pic because I look so unapologetically fat