Jamie's Tummy at Christmas - by BBD (~BHM, Eating, ~SWG)

[Big Beautiful Dreamer]

~BHM, Eating, ~SWG- a very graphic description of how one family hosted Xmas dinner for their daughter's fiancer

Jamie’s Tummy at Christmas
by Big Beautiful Dreamer

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In “Turkey Day,” Jamie Foster and his stomach meet his fiancée’s family at Thanksgiving dinner. This is the second in a series of vignettes describing big holiday meals and big holiday tummies.

Jamie Foster was only slightly less nervous about spending the holidays with his fiancée’s family at Christmas than he had been at Thanksgiving. At least this time he wasn’t quite as much on display. He’d liked Anne Moody’s big, cheerfully noisy family. Still, this was only their second close encounter. He wiped his hands on his jeans before getting out of the Jeep.

Professor and Mrs. Moody were smiling a welcome, offering him not handshakes but hugs.

“Welcome back, Jamie,” Mrs. Moody said warmly, pressing a mug of Russian tea into his cold hands. Professor Moody, seated in his worn wing chair, asked his opinion of the new German chancellor, a question that Jamie fortunately was able to answer with some intelligence. Anne’s various siblings, sibs-in-law, and other assorted relatives trooped in and out. Snow was falling, making a pretty holiday scene, and the house was cozily decorated with greenery, candles and bows.

As at Thanksgiving, Mrs. Moody had roasted a stuffed turkey. Enticing fragrances wafted through the living room: turkey and stuffing, cranberries, the table becoming laden with bowls heaped with steaming homemade food.

Jamie, knowing by now how good everything was, happily piled his plate high, pouring smooth gravy over everything to achieve some culinary harmony. As is normal with a large family dinner, there were several conversations going on at once. Jamie ate steadily, enjoying both food and talk. He refilled his plate without even noticing, absentmindedly downing two heaping platefuls. A pause to refill the glasses allowed him to take note of his belly, protruding modestly, pushing his waistband outward.

He was getting full, but far from ready to quit. He piled his plate again, a little more judiciously, and loosened his belt a notch as a preventive measure. Just in case he should happen to need more room. Three platefuls were now history.

Pausing to consider what he wanted just a little more of, he contemplated his empty plate and full stomach. His midsection was now distended, stretched taut and sagging heavily over his waistband. He loosened his belt another notch and wiggled his pants button undone. The waistband of his pants was beginning to slice into his bulging belly and he had to stifle a fairly significant belch. Maybe he should stop.

Just as he came to that conclusion, however, Mrs. Moody pressed him to finish up the cranberries and the last couple of rolls. She was similarly urging others to finish up other bits and dabs of food. No one was quite done yet.

He took a gulp of iced tea, savoring the sensation of the cold liquid sloshing into his full tummy and splashing against the tautness of his abdomen. In a haze, stupefied by food, he dreamily ate the cranberries and rolls, loosening his belt another notch. That was it for the belt; any more loosening, and good riddance. It was suddenly too small anyway. He hiccupped so loudly he was sure heads would turn, but no one noticed, probably because one of

Anne’s brothers belched at the same time, getting all the teasing and mock scolding. He knew that dessert was on the way and pressed a hand to his aching stomach. Heavy and sore, his gut was painfully taut. He was so full he couldn’t swallow another bite, but the pie smelled so good. Slowly, carefully, he sipped at the hot coffee.

The unexpected dark richness of the chocolate caught him by surprise. The first bite slid down his throat. With difficulty, he stifled a belch. He was so stuffed. At the same time, he knew that manners dictated he should eat the whole piece, which now loomed large as a house.

Slowly, very slowly, he let the dark chocolate slide coolly down his throat into his belly, stretched and gorged. Every breath brought a hiccup. At last the plate was empty and the others were standing, stretching and groaning. He never thought of standing up as a daunting task, but his stomach now ached so much he couldn’t bear the thought. Bent over, his bloated gut dragging him down, he shuffled off toward the guest bedroom, knowing he had a few hours to recover.

He shuffled to the guest bedroom, undid his belt and unzipped his pants, and pushed them down. Underwear, pinching his swollen waist, was next. Down to only shirt and socks, he sank into the chair and slung his feet up onto the footstool. He leaned back; sitting up straight made his overloaded belly hurt too much.

Half-asleep, bloated, gorged, damp with sweat, he slid his hand back and forth across his middle, massaging it, hoping for some relief for his discomfort. He looked down as he did. His belly protruded heavily outward, tight and rounded, feeling like a boulder resting on his chest. Ann found him there, half-dressed and belly bulging like a cartoon glutton’s.

“Get enough to eat?” she asked teasingly. She perched on the arm of his chair and patted his swollen gut.

“Ow,” he said sharply, arresting her hand. He belched.

Head to one side, Anne contemplated Jamie’s tummy as if it were an interesting new subspecies, abdominus rotundida.

Jamie stated the obvious. “(Urp) Ate too (urrp) … too much.” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Anne, not unkindly, massaged his bloated gut. His abdomen ballooned roundly out from below his pecs, taut and pale, his belly button deep in a mound of full tummy. Jamie was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ease his distress.

“Go to bed,” Anne said kindly. “Forget about church. I’ll tell them you couldn’t stay awake.”

“It’s true,” Jamie’s eyelids fluttered heavily. “Merry Christmas,” he started to say. Instead he hiccupped, then fell soundly asleep, looking like Santa Claus after a night full of milk and cookies.

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