Weight Room Title Bar

Secret Admirer
by Em

Her name is Tiffany. She works for the same company I do. Every day I see her walk by in her fancy little Express outfits. They must be a size 1/2, even though she is nearly six feet tall. Looks like she's from California, with her deeply bronzed skin and her face framing shagged hair. Eats like she's from California too. I see her in the lunchroom with her watercress and alfalfa sprouts. She has nice cheekbones, rounded not angular and harsh. She is so thin that even on casual day in her white t-shirt you can barely see breasts. Of course, she is very popular in the office, most pretty people are. But I've overheard her conversations with selected coworkers while stealing a smoke in the ladies room. "Did you see what Martha was wearing today? Mother Theresa wouldn't be caught dead in that" "I beat Billy out of his promotion. He can't wear a tight wool miniskirt like I can" I would like to have some fun with her, and on a day when I spy three large M & M cookies sitting on her desk a plan comes to mind.

Our company is huge. She has no idea who I am save for a face she says, "Hello" to in the hallway, on occasion. Many times when I pass by her tiny office no one is around-most of the people who work in this area are down shipping things out at the mailroom.

Her chair is empty. I walk in quickly and leave a small deposit. A giant size Kit-Kat bar with a typewritten note: "From a friend" I don't see her all week but each day I leave a king-size candy bar with a pleasant but anonymous note. During the weekend I imagine her disrobing in her mod bathroom with the large-bulbed stage lights. Weighing herself on the scale and finding she has gained half a pound. (400 extra calories a day throughout the workweek and only if she hasn't extra-stairmastered it off.) I decided to bake some Tollhouse Pan cookies, altering the recipe a bit and adding some tasty chocolate weight gain powder. After I cut them into 25 bars I figure each one will provide more than 300 calories.

Each day during the week I leave five nicely wrapped cookies on Tiffany's desk and hope to myself she isn't pawning all this candy off on some kid brother or undeserving nephew. Again I am not given the privilege of seeing her all week and can only imagine what she must think when the scale reads 121 instead of the usual 118.

On Monday one of Tiffany's friends is crying in the restroom. I ask her what's wrong. "That bitch," Monica says, "She's been playing me for a fool for the past eight months, cozies up to me, and turns me into one of her best friends" I fail to understand Monica's problem until she explains further, after another big sob. "My project that I was working on to impress Mr. Davis, she stole it. The ideas, all of it. She has completely erased my disks and pretends it wasn't her who stole the information. I have no proof that the project was mine. She presented it to Mr. Davis yesterday morning while I was on vacation. I come back today to find out she got my promotion!" After some careful thinking on my part, Monica blurts out, "I just want to get her!" I ask her some questions about her and Tiffany's relationship, confide a few secret-admirer secrets, and then the two of us conspire.

Monica cleans up her and walks back down the hallway with a genuine smile on her face. In honor of Tiffany's promotion, Monica takes her out for dinner. Meanwhile, I just happen to have an empathetic friend at the restaurant who instructs the chef to load Tiffany's plate-with extra calories, ingredients, and food. Monica watches in astonishment as Tiffany downs a one-pound extra-cheese cheese burger, a complete order of criss-cut fries with a side of mayonnaise, a huge piece of pecan pie with whipped cream and ice cream, two margaritas, and a double chocolate oreo shake.

Monica gives Tiffany some story about seeing Tiffany's boyfriend Rick with some really hot number at Club Pace on Saturday night. Tiffany buys it hook, line, and sinker. The next day she tells Monica she broke it off with Rick, who denied the entire incident. They go out for lunch to bitch about men. Tiffany puts away one order of lasagna, an order of stuffed mushrooms, two cokes, another pie a la mode, and another chocolate shake (with special enhancements provided by yours truly). Seeing as Tiffany doesn't normally eat lunch, Monica and I figure she's putting away an extra 6,000 calories a day minimum (without her realizing it of course). Monica has kept Tiffany occupied at lunch all week. Today is Friday and although I still haven't seen Tiffany, Monica says an effect can definitely be seen on Tiffany's ultra-slim figure. On Monday that sure is apparent, especially since Monica kept Tiffany eating and away from the gym all weekend.

When I ran into her today it was obvious she had put on about 16 pounds since I had implemented Plan Fat. Her black rayon trousers were stretched tightly across her slightly rounded belly. Her cheeks were just slightly more round and puffy. And when I turned around to see her walk down the hall, it was obvious the weight favored her butt, which now plumped the seems of her pants to stretching.

Monica convinced the disheartened Tiffany (She was really upset over the loss of Rick, who refused to take her back when she called him over the weekend.) to go shopping with her. She further convinced her that oversize clothing was all the rage. Tiffany wasn't the only thing stuffed to busting so was her credit card, with ten ample-roomed outfits charged on it.

My secret admirer cards have become cherished treasures and so have the king size candy bars that I leave three times a day. And Monica keeps Tiffany eating at the restaurant where one of her favorite things to do is relax with a good meal and a chocolate shake. By the end of the week the former 118 lb beauty queen has easily gained another 15 pounds and is now up to 148.

The whole situation has become really fun. People around the office are buzzing about Tiffany's new heft. "Thank God she went shopping," one girl said. "I thought she was going to bust out of her pants when she sat down at last week's board meeting" "I see her in her office gulping down candy bars and Cokes every time I walk by," said another.

Monica has managed to keep Tiffany busy and away from the gym with trips to restaurants, rented movies, conversation, plays, and other sit down activities. "I think I've put on a few pounds," she confessed to Monica during one of their girl talks at Tiffany's house. Tiffany insisted they go work out at her gym. She began changing into her skimpy leotard right in front of Monica, who said Tiffany got really embarrassed when her bottoms slipped right up into the space between her expanding rear, giving the appearance of a thong. The crop top and the elastic of her bottoms dug into her thickening flesh. "There was this huge roll of tan blubber just sitting there between the electric blue shades of her formerly seductive workout wear," Monica told me proudly.

Surprisingly, instead of going to workout Tiffany has begun to stay at home to drown her sorrows in boxes of Twinkies and Little Debbie Snack Cakes conveniently provided by her secret admirer. Monica told Tiffany she was broke and couldn't go out to eat anymore. (Really, she couldn't take Tiffany's insufferable conversation any longer.) But that hasn't stopped Tiffany from dining out every day. And now with no one to watch her (she thinks) she really lets herself go to town. Easily, she scarfs down two fatty appetizers like loaded potato skins, or fried clams; two dinners, like fettucine alfredo (the chef is still cooking with extra ingredients like using cream instead of milk) and an everything burger; and polishes off one piece of pie and a piece of liquered cake. Not too mention the two chocolate shakes she washes everything down with. And who knows what she eats at home. We have spied empty box upon empty box of Almond Roca and empty peanut butter jars. And don't forget the three boxes of snack food the Secret Admirer leaves her each day. They are lucky to last until 3 pm.

Office gossip has gone through the roof. She's now buying clothes at thrift stores to keep up with her ever transitioning body size. Out-moded 70s polyester suits hug every inch of her bulging blubber. Her former confident stride has been reduced to a slow waddle.

Another four weeks has passed and Tiffany is zooming in on 200 pounds. Her waistline is now as wide as her hips, and gives her the appearance that she has swallowed a beach ball that remains lodged somewhere in her intestines. It's obvious she's refusing to buy large-sized clothing, sticking with the sixteen's and eighteen's she's able to snag at the thrift stores. Lost buttons are found in the hallways. Passersby snicker to each other when picking them up. Her cheeks now look like they've been stuffed with cotton. The best part is that her butt can barely squish it's way between the armrests of the very narrow and very expensive executive's chair she had insisted on upon her last promotion.

She doesn't venture into the employee lounge during breaks anymore. She choeses to stay inside her office and eat. However, she does prowl around the company refrigerator when she thinks no one is looking. Tiffany has become the office toy. For a week now, people from all departments have been bringing in fattening food to the refrigerator, not with the intention of eating it but of waiting to see how long before it will disappear. Pepperidge Farm cakes, quarts of ice cream, bowls of chocolate mousse, prepackaged Tiramisu all somehow find their way to Tiffany.

A piece of Tiffany's mail was delivered to me today, so I took the opportunity to check in on my rotund coworker. Her back was turned to me, and I must have startled her. She whipped around in her swivel chair. She had red glaze smeared on her lips from the two jelly donuts she was double fisting over her puffy lips and into her eager mouth. The baby blue polyester pants she wore looked painfully strained. Her white blouse exposed rolls of skin at the points where the buttons barely met. "Can I help you?" she managed to say, her mouth still full of jelly donut.

"Sorry if I startled you," I replied. This letter was accidentally left in my in box. And someone left this package of yours at my office too" I picked up a box that had been hidden from her sight.

"God, some of the mailroom people around here are so dense," she said before biting off another half of yet another jelly donut.

"Yeah," I casually replied and walked away. This time Tiffany's secret admirer had really done it. Soon inside the box Tiffany would find a gourmet chocolate cake, an industrial size box of Hershey bars, and four boxes of donuts. At 1pm today the incident happened.

Everybody stared and followed as four maintenance men made their way to Tiffany's office. Peering over shoulders, I saw the box I had dropped off, now completely empty on the floor. Next to it with a look of both horror and consternation was little jelly belly herself. It seems she couldn't get out of her designer chair. Her king size love handles squished under and over the handles of the chair. Two of the men held the chair and the other two grabbed her under the arms and pulledùbut to no avail. She was worse off than a beached whale. It took a while for the men to get the appropriate tools and remove the armrests. After finally being dislodged, teary-eyed Tiffany put in a request for a week's vacation.

Monica hasn't heard from Tiffany all week. Our only guess is that she is too busy eating. On Saturday, we sneak a telescope into the building across the street from Tiffany's apartment. Tiffany is sitting on a big plush Laz-y-Boy chair. She is dressed only in white cotton briefs that even though large still dig into her expansive, massive tummy. The floor is covered with wrappers: Twinkies, HiHos, Doritos, Funyons, Grandma's Cookies. She's holding a bowl filled with cheese popcorn and is watching some cooking show. She sets the bowl down and pushes herself out of the chair. Wow, she must have managed to put on another thiry pounds in one week! She seems to have some trouble walking, as she's not used to her thighs pressing and rubbing against one another. Amazingly, she begins doing toe touches. Or should I say tries to begin doing toe touches. She can't even make it to her ankles. One, two, three. She gives up and walks out of sight. Tiffany returns with a quart of chocolate ice cream and a big spoon. Monica and I giggle and go home.

People didn't have too much time during the week to chat about Tiffany's even larger return from vacation. Mr. Davis is set to return from his European trip on Monday and everyone needs to catch up on their work. Monica and I are speculating what his response will be to Tiffany. His former svelte and savvy VP is now a big, blobby butterball.

Even while catching up on her work after a week's vacation Tiffany seems to be finding time to down Milky Ways and Creme Soda while talking to clients and preparing reports.

Well, today certainly was interesting. Mr. Davis returned from his trip and when he walked by Tiffany's office he did a doubletake, stopped, and said, "Excuse me but who the hell are you?"

"It's me Tiffany VanPatten," she replied, quickly swallowing the remainder of a creme puff.

"I've only been gone a couple of months!" he cried. You're as big as a house"

"Yes, I have gained a few pounds," she understatedly admitted.

Heads were popping out from office doors. People in the hallway stopped walking and talking to listen. "Come with me, Miss VanPatten," Mr. Davis said coldly. As she stood up a rip could be heard from the back of her doubly inflated beach ball butt. Her 260 pound frame must have been too much for the poor, suffering rayon trousers.

Although Mr. Davis shut the door, he could be heard yelling at Tiffany. "No Vice President of mine.." Rumors spread like wildfire. Tiffany had been canned.

A month has gone by and everything is back to normal, well it was until today. Much to everyone's surprise a 300 lb Tiffany, dressed in a bright red silk outfit, came storming in with a herd of lawyers. Her round head was made up flawlessly, even without cheekbones she looked attractive. Her plump feet spilled out over the top of the heels she managed to balance on. Tiffany and her entourage stormed into Mr. Davis' office. Everyone was curious.

Turns out Tiffany was going to slap a huge lawsuit against the company, however, the stockholders and some other very important people pressured Mr. Davis to resign so Tiffany would drop the suit. And guess who was promoted to Mr. Davis' position, Tiffany herself. "To think it all began with a secret admirer card and a Kit-Kat," Monica said to me in the ladies room. We thought we were alone but heard a flush so left quickly.

Tiffany is a pretty great President. She's really gained everyone's respect around here, and she dresses to killùshe can afford it. Her weight gain seems to have leveled off now. She's probably at 350 or so. She has really implemented a lot of new employee incentives and perks to encourage a strong work ethic. Just a few of the small things are casual Thursdays and Fridays, carmel and cheese popcorn delivered to the breakrooms on Mondays and Wednesdays, donuts delivered on Tuesday mornings, cinnamon rolls delivered Thursday mornings, Pizza and ice cream parties every Friday, and constantly replenished little jars of candy bars can be found scattered throughout the building. Oh yeah, and I forgot the mysterious little energy pills that she makes sure every employee gets each day.

Monica and I are going out for lunch today. I haven't said anything, but I've noticed she's put on a couple of pounds lately. Actually, I've noticed quite a few people in the office have been stretching their seams a bit during the last several weeks. For some reason I've been really hungry lately, so I order a double cheese burger, a large order of fries, an order of onion rings, and two pieces of pecan pie with ice cream. Monica has the same. We're both still hungry and still have a while before we need to be back to work so we each get a pizza and a chocolate shake. Today is Friday, so I wore jeans to work. I had a little trouble getting them on this morning. They must have shrunk in the wash. When Monica and I return from lunch I head immediately back to my office. I can barely sit down my pants are so snug. I figure it's okay to unbutton my jeans since I can cover the top with the sweater I'm wearing. I look down at my stomach and then at my sides. I never noticed that my stomach paunched out like that or that my sides rolled over my waistband like that before. Oh well, hey what's this? A big box of imported chocolates with a note, "Thanks for all the hard work" Sincerely, Tiffany"