Weight Room Title Bar

Free at Last
by Some Person

As long as I can remember I wanted to be fat. Throughout my late teens I yo-yo'd back forth from chubby to plump but never made the transition to fat. It wasn't until I finished college that I finally began to find myself. There the story begins.

Well, after college graduation I went on to work. I had a job as a Naturalist in a local park over the summer and worked part time at a Mr. Donut. It was cool. I loved my work at both places and it paid the bills. For the first time I had enough money to live somewhere else besides my parent's house. I was finally free and the affects were soon to be felt. Sweet independance.

The one thing I quickly found out was how hard all this freedom was on the body. Away from school and away from home I had no access to a gym or weight lifting equipment. Still, I kept up on my running and my push-ups. The problem was I could now eat without anyone to watch over me. I'd witnessed this partially in college but returning home on weekends kept things in check for the most part. Working at Mr. Donut didn't help either.

Eventually my gained weight slowed my running routine down and pushups began to be tough thing to continue. I hadn't thought that 15 pounds or so (193-208) would be such a burden to exercise but it was. I knew as I got fatter that I needed to go buy some new weights. The mistake I made was buying some bigger jeans right before deciding on that. Because of this I had to begin saving for new weight lifting equipment. Ten pounds later (218) I needed new clothes and could afford clothes over weights.

I was stuck between a rock and a hard (or soft place) in a way and my secret desires to be fat made the decision easy. All of this was contrary to what I told friends and co-workers, of course. In any case I had always wanted to be fat, but being that I felt a little out of control now it made it strange and somehow more erotic. Once I hit 230+ comments started making things tough on the ego. My parents hadn't seen me in a while, but some customers and co-workers made some rude comments about my soft figure.

The thing was I couldn't hide my weight any longer. About this time everything began to change. For the first time I was shopping for plus size clothing. My body started to fight things and control my actions. When navigating my apartment things got in the way more. I found myself pushing in chairs more often to get by them and putting things away on shelves and tables so I didn't have to bend over so much. I even tried running once after one of those “today I begin losing this weight” days. I barely made it a hundred feet before my body just said “no.”

As I continued gaining I noticed a lot of cellulite build up on my legs and my butt and I had a few stretch marks coming in on my stomach. With all the new mass to account for I began squeezing into once comfortable places. First were my, used to be, “fat pants”, a pair of XXL sweats a bought when I hit 220, and on top of that I needed to maneuver my large butt into theater seats and restaurant booths.

One day I ran the water long in the bath tub before getting in and found I had to drain some of it before I got in. My hips were actually rubbing the sides of the tub and pushed water up over the top of the walls. Sadly, I relegated to taking showers from then on as washing under my belly was also tough sitting or laying in the tub. All these changes only fueled my fanny though.

The other factors were both work related. One was, by summer's end, I was mysteriously fired from my naturalist job for being “incapable of fulfilling my duties” and, two, it didn't help that I was dating the boss's secretary who I think he had a thing for. I think he was somewhat tiffed at the fact I got her. From there I was free to begin working full time as manager at Mr. Donut. Though I was disappointed at losing that job, the funny thing was, I got paid more as full time manager at MD than at my old job.

By this time I had hit 290 + lbs. I was huge, and people began letting me know that. Working in the Donut shop made it worse. Any time someone saw me eating anything they felt like they had the right to tell me about it. “Are you sure you need that!?” But it was cool. I may have been a fat person, but I was still a wise ass like I always was before. I just responded by asking, “Why do I look fat in this?” I was feeling good. Better than I ever had before.

Jamie, my girlfriend, the secretary I was talking about, helped in that, too. Our weekly trip to the local Ponderosa was something I looked forward to more than anything. She loved to see me gorge myself and in the process did some herself. I packed on weight for sure but to my surprise she put on about 25 or 30 herself. I didn't know whether to tell her or not, but she was becoming a gorgeous plumper herself.

At this time, I was committed to never diet again. The only thing that could have stopped me was size. I loved eating, but I was now being limited by space. Everything Jamie and I did began to start with the question, “What kind of seating do they have?” I was closed off from movie theaters, many fast food restaurants, and quite a few other experiences like baseball games and concerts with seating. Anywhere there were fixed seats I couldn't fit. Being an outdoor type person, though, walking in the park and going to the beach was well within my limits, and I took the “sacrifice” like a late night snack.

So anyway, here I am just over two years later and things are quite different now. Jamie and I will have been married for a year in a week and three days and I've taken ownership of that Mr. Donut. I cut my hours but certainly not my eating. Jamie was fired from the park not long after I was and since then has been working with me at the shop. We live comfortably and still make our way to area all-you-can-eats with frequency.

Last month J hit her highest weight ever at 324 lbs. She is stunning, to say the least. As for me, let's just say that you could slap a wide load sign on this rear end and I wouldn't argue. Yeah, I get around still, but the only thing tighter than my last pair of jeans are the hall ways in our house. There is nothing like the feeling of rolling out of bed in the morning and feeling all that soft flesh squeeze, sway, and quiver on your way to the breakfast table.

If anyone has seen my feet lately, let me know. I think they are missing!