Gentleman
03-21-2007, 04:30 PM
~BHM, Gormandizing, Imagery, ~MWG - If you can't lose weight by dieting, then why not try going the other way?
(Author's note: Here’s one that may grow on you!)
Body Building
by Gentleman
I want to be fat. Seriously fat. Not just chubby; that’s what I am now and have been for as long as I can remember. And I hate it. I’ve always felt that someday I would suddenly get the willpower to lose the 80 odd extra pounds I carry and be miraculously slim. Yeah, right. I’m stuck in that middle ground of not being attractive to girls that like their men toned, and those that prefer a plush teddy bear.
Oh, there have been a number of women in my life. I am smart and kind and witty. I don’t even look half bad. It’s just that while the girls I’ve dated really like my personality, they merely seem to put up with my physique. For once in my life I want to feel sexy. I want a woman to drool over the sight of me. I want to be hot!
I needed an attitude adjustment, so I had two options: lose weight (fat chance) or totally let myself go. No contest, really. I began my journey to obesity by clipping coupons. 2-for-1 burgers; double-meat subs; half-price pizzas; basically any extra meal deals I could find. There were an unexpected number of them in the Sunday paper. No wonder we Americans are getting so fat!
I started my new diet that Monday. I travel around a lot in my job as a salesman, so visiting a drive-thru is easy. I decided on a double lunch regime. That’s an early lunch at 11 a.m. and a second one when I was hungry again around 2. I figured that adding a fourth meal to the day would help me reach my goal sooner. And I made sure all those meals were super-sized.
At first, I hid the extra wrappers and cups in the back seat when I when picked up my next order. But within a few weeks, I didn’t care. I was becoming a regular at several fast food joints, and it made no sense to hide my gluttony. Besides, the girls in the windows were fat too. It was actually quite arousing.
By the end of the month, my pants were definitely getting tight. The size 42 slacks that I had worn for years barely closed. My dress shirts were stretched tight around my middle, and the buttons gapped when I sat. Good signs of progress. I needed to go shopping for a few basics - no sense getting an entire wardrobe while I’m dieting!
I was pleasantly surprised when the new size 44 pants I tried were also snug. The 46’s were a little loose, but didn’t leave me much room to grow. So I happily bought three pairs of 48’s. A four-foot waist! Wow! I couldn’t wait to fill them! The same thing happened when I tried on shirts, and I ended getting the largest ones they had. I guess next time it’s a trip to the big men’s store!
Encouraged by my success, I started keeping a stash of cookies, candy and snack cakes in the car with me. As I drove around between sales calls, I constantly munched on treats. I was growing fatter by the day, but I was impatient for more.
For dinner, I started hitting the buffets. I became an eating machine. I felt like an athlete in training; a body builder! I would challenge myself to eat a little more each night. Sometimes the last few bites were painful, but I was on a mission. No pain, no gain!
My manly belly was expanding impressively, hanging way over my belt just as I’d hoped. A few months down the road, those 48’s were skin-tight. I now sported two healthy love-handles that curved around my sides. Nice! I had packed on sixty extra pounds and was delighted with my growing shape. Although the tightness of my shirts felt comforting, I needed to maintain a somewhat professional appearance. So I was off for my first visit to the big men’s shop.
When I stepped in, it was obvious that I was long overdue. You don’t often see a button-down guy like me dressed as a sausage – fat rolls spilling out of my shirt with pants so tight I could barely walk. The clerk, a portly man himself, helped me find some new outfits. To his credit, he never mentioned my distress, and seemed to know without asking that my present size was only a stepping-stone. He sold me clothing several sizes larger than I actually was. I thanked him and said I’ll be back soon. He didn’t doubt it.
Fattening myself up has been very liberating. I deny myself nothing. I’ve now built up my appetite to the point that I surprise even myself sometimes. I no longer obsess that losing a few will make a difference. People used to say that I was a good-looking guy, if I just would drop a little weight. Well now that I’ve become a tremendously fat man, people politely say I look good for my size. A subtle distinction, one that has done wonders for my self-esteem. Everything is growing: my waistline, my confidence, and my sales – it’s all good!
When I look in the mirror, I really like what I see. My body is a work of art. I’ve got just enough butt to balance the massive belly that hangs before me. I particularly like the thick spare-tire I’ve developed that wraps around my sides to my back. My chunky legs are like sturdy columns holding up this enormous sculpture that I created. Although I’m not wild about my sagging breasts, I guess they are in proportion to the rest of me. And I’m not finished yet!
One thing I hadn’t counted on outgrowing was my car. It eventually got too hard to lower myself into my Mustang GT. The steering-wheel dug into my belly and made turning difficult, and long doors made it a tight squeeze when someone parked too close. Besides, it was no fun shifting while eating all the time! So I traded in for a Dodge Charger. Still sporty, but a lot roomier; it looks bulky and powerful, like me!
Overall, I am very pleased with my body building. It took a lot of effort and it shows. I’m well dressed (I’ve become a regular at the men’s shop) and well groomed; I’m ready for business!
Lately, I’ve noticed that while talking to clients I’m subconsciously patting my paunch like I was showing it off. I guess it’s obvious that I‘m proud of my accomplishment. As a matter of fact, I look forward to being the fattest person in any meeting I attend. I look successful and feel strong. As a salesman, you need to differentiate yourself from the crowd, and at my size, I really leave an impression!
Some businesses I visit keep an open box of doughnuts out for their guests. In the olden days, I would politely decline as if they didn’t know I was already chubby. Who was I trying to kid? Now, I dive right in and take at least two. Damn the calories - here’s a man that knows how to live!
Yesterday, I strode into an office at a sales stop that I only visit about once a year. I saw the eyes of the sweet brunette receptionist grow wide as she asked if she could help me.
“Hi, Maria,” I said.
She sat back for a moment, and then exclaimed “Wow, Brian! I didn’t recognize you!”
“Shaved off my beard,” I chuckled. It’s true; I thought it better displayed the sizeable double chin that now encircled my face.
She surprised me and said, “Well, step back. Let me get a good look at you.”
I executed a dainty little runway turn and gave her a big smile. “What do you think?”
She stammered, “You look incredible, Brian. You’re totally hot!”
(Author's note: Here’s one that may grow on you!)
Body Building
by Gentleman
I want to be fat. Seriously fat. Not just chubby; that’s what I am now and have been for as long as I can remember. And I hate it. I’ve always felt that someday I would suddenly get the willpower to lose the 80 odd extra pounds I carry and be miraculously slim. Yeah, right. I’m stuck in that middle ground of not being attractive to girls that like their men toned, and those that prefer a plush teddy bear.
Oh, there have been a number of women in my life. I am smart and kind and witty. I don’t even look half bad. It’s just that while the girls I’ve dated really like my personality, they merely seem to put up with my physique. For once in my life I want to feel sexy. I want a woman to drool over the sight of me. I want to be hot!
I needed an attitude adjustment, so I had two options: lose weight (fat chance) or totally let myself go. No contest, really. I began my journey to obesity by clipping coupons. 2-for-1 burgers; double-meat subs; half-price pizzas; basically any extra meal deals I could find. There were an unexpected number of them in the Sunday paper. No wonder we Americans are getting so fat!
I started my new diet that Monday. I travel around a lot in my job as a salesman, so visiting a drive-thru is easy. I decided on a double lunch regime. That’s an early lunch at 11 a.m. and a second one when I was hungry again around 2. I figured that adding a fourth meal to the day would help me reach my goal sooner. And I made sure all those meals were super-sized.
At first, I hid the extra wrappers and cups in the back seat when I when picked up my next order. But within a few weeks, I didn’t care. I was becoming a regular at several fast food joints, and it made no sense to hide my gluttony. Besides, the girls in the windows were fat too. It was actually quite arousing.
By the end of the month, my pants were definitely getting tight. The size 42 slacks that I had worn for years barely closed. My dress shirts were stretched tight around my middle, and the buttons gapped when I sat. Good signs of progress. I needed to go shopping for a few basics - no sense getting an entire wardrobe while I’m dieting!
I was pleasantly surprised when the new size 44 pants I tried were also snug. The 46’s were a little loose, but didn’t leave me much room to grow. So I happily bought three pairs of 48’s. A four-foot waist! Wow! I couldn’t wait to fill them! The same thing happened when I tried on shirts, and I ended getting the largest ones they had. I guess next time it’s a trip to the big men’s store!
Encouraged by my success, I started keeping a stash of cookies, candy and snack cakes in the car with me. As I drove around between sales calls, I constantly munched on treats. I was growing fatter by the day, but I was impatient for more.
For dinner, I started hitting the buffets. I became an eating machine. I felt like an athlete in training; a body builder! I would challenge myself to eat a little more each night. Sometimes the last few bites were painful, but I was on a mission. No pain, no gain!
My manly belly was expanding impressively, hanging way over my belt just as I’d hoped. A few months down the road, those 48’s were skin-tight. I now sported two healthy love-handles that curved around my sides. Nice! I had packed on sixty extra pounds and was delighted with my growing shape. Although the tightness of my shirts felt comforting, I needed to maintain a somewhat professional appearance. So I was off for my first visit to the big men’s shop.
When I stepped in, it was obvious that I was long overdue. You don’t often see a button-down guy like me dressed as a sausage – fat rolls spilling out of my shirt with pants so tight I could barely walk. The clerk, a portly man himself, helped me find some new outfits. To his credit, he never mentioned my distress, and seemed to know without asking that my present size was only a stepping-stone. He sold me clothing several sizes larger than I actually was. I thanked him and said I’ll be back soon. He didn’t doubt it.
Fattening myself up has been very liberating. I deny myself nothing. I’ve now built up my appetite to the point that I surprise even myself sometimes. I no longer obsess that losing a few will make a difference. People used to say that I was a good-looking guy, if I just would drop a little weight. Well now that I’ve become a tremendously fat man, people politely say I look good for my size. A subtle distinction, one that has done wonders for my self-esteem. Everything is growing: my waistline, my confidence, and my sales – it’s all good!
When I look in the mirror, I really like what I see. My body is a work of art. I’ve got just enough butt to balance the massive belly that hangs before me. I particularly like the thick spare-tire I’ve developed that wraps around my sides to my back. My chunky legs are like sturdy columns holding up this enormous sculpture that I created. Although I’m not wild about my sagging breasts, I guess they are in proportion to the rest of me. And I’m not finished yet!
One thing I hadn’t counted on outgrowing was my car. It eventually got too hard to lower myself into my Mustang GT. The steering-wheel dug into my belly and made turning difficult, and long doors made it a tight squeeze when someone parked too close. Besides, it was no fun shifting while eating all the time! So I traded in for a Dodge Charger. Still sporty, but a lot roomier; it looks bulky and powerful, like me!
Overall, I am very pleased with my body building. It took a lot of effort and it shows. I’m well dressed (I’ve become a regular at the men’s shop) and well groomed; I’m ready for business!
Lately, I’ve noticed that while talking to clients I’m subconsciously patting my paunch like I was showing it off. I guess it’s obvious that I‘m proud of my accomplishment. As a matter of fact, I look forward to being the fattest person in any meeting I attend. I look successful and feel strong. As a salesman, you need to differentiate yourself from the crowd, and at my size, I really leave an impression!
Some businesses I visit keep an open box of doughnuts out for their guests. In the olden days, I would politely decline as if they didn’t know I was already chubby. Who was I trying to kid? Now, I dive right in and take at least two. Damn the calories - here’s a man that knows how to live!
Yesterday, I strode into an office at a sales stop that I only visit about once a year. I saw the eyes of the sweet brunette receptionist grow wide as she asked if she could help me.
“Hi, Maria,” I said.
She sat back for a moment, and then exclaimed “Wow, Brian! I didn’t recognize you!”
“Shaved off my beard,” I chuckled. It’s true; I thought it better displayed the sizeable double chin that now encircled my face.
She surprised me and said, “Well, step back. Let me get a good look at you.”
I executed a dainty little runway turn and gave her a big smile. “What do you think?”
She stammered, “You look incredible, Brian. You’re totally hot!”