Jan 18

Jan ‘18

Two years since I last did a post on here, and I thought I should make apologies and excuses but then I thought nah fuck it, I’ll just tell you all what’s happened. Not gonna proof read this either, so forgive the odd spelling mistakt.

I didn’t want to write on here for loads of reasons and I even went to delete it a couple of times and decided against it. I have had really tough couple of years and I’m a total mess.

I’m going to be 30 this year and I have literally spend what should be the best decade of my life sat on my fat ass killing myself with food. So yeah I’m a bit of a misery guts, no fucking apologies, and I haven’t wanted to be here. A few months after I last posted I was still being a useless pig and carrying on without a single fuck left to give when I woke up one morning with the worst migraine of my life, I was puking and crying and dizzy, I couldn’t see out of my right eye and my whole body was uncoordinated. I was like that for a week, barely able to keep any food or even drink down, before my doctor came over and sent me to hospital. I’d had a mini stroke only this one had actually caused some brain damage. I got better in the hospital, had a new prescription and came home. I still have trouble seeing from my right eye compared to my left and I still get dizzy spells but I’m otherwise ok.

When I say I came home though, I didn’t come back to my flat. Dad was there when I was taken out, he had to remove the front door so I could be safely moved out, and I remember the look in his eyes as I was wheeled out with an oxygen mask on, he’d completely lost his patience with me. He cleared out my stuff and brought it home, had the place professionally cleaned and rented out my room. He let Vicky stay though which is something. I came back to live with my mum and dad and we were immediately arguing. They put me on a strict diet and I couldn’t argue, I couldn’t leave. Obviously I tried to get around this by ordering food but dad took my money away, then I ordered takeaway anyway expecting mum to be embarrassed into paying. I got a pizza delivered and dad answered, paid the man then took it around to the bin outdoors and threw it away. I was livid, he was absolutely mental, he took my phone and laptop away so I couldn’t do it again. There was some screaming and crying and I acted like a fucking two year old for way longer than I would like to admit, but eventually I had to settle into the arrangement like an adult.

Life was fucking horrible. I felt like shit all day and I didn’t even have food to keep me happy. I played videogames when I didn’t have a stinking headache, was only eating 2000 calories a day and drinking nothing but water. And when I say nothing I mean nothing, I was going through a couple of bottles of spirits and a dozen cans of lager every week at my flat, let alone 2 or 3 big bottles of pop throughout the day, but I had to just go cold turkey in the hospital and after a while I was used to it.

I have to admit I felt a lot better over the following months. I had my first Christmas around my family that year where I wasn’t confined to a bed or sofa in fucking ages. I didn’t leave the house all year though, my legs are completely fucked. I’m going to be in a wheelchair for life, the cartilage in my knees is all gone and the joints are fucked. I’ve still got fluid retention in my lower legs and my ankles are like huge hams, I can just about stand to get out of my chair for the loo or bed. I’m showering much more often now too, several times a week, so my rolls don’t have time to get infected, which was something that happened a few times before. It was a huge worry before because I knew everytime I  washed them that I wasn’t doing it right. I still need mum’s help and I’m still signed off as disabled, that’s pretty much going to be the rest of my life now.

I had terrible hunger pains the whole time up until xmas, my stomach was just so used to the food that nothing short of a family meal was going to satisfy me. I cried a lot especially at night and guilt tripped my mum a lot but she was strong for a long time. The diet period ended around Christmas, I wasn’t in immediate danger of dying, but there were no takeaways or fast food, mum just gave in after Christmas with things like muffins and donuts. I stopped losing weight around then and I’m somewhere around 30 stone now. I don’t have to eat a lot to keep my weight this high though, I’m pretty much completely sedentary. All I have to do is move out of my wheelchair a few times a day with help, so I only really need a few thousand calories and I must be getting them all because these deflated rolls of pork have gone nowhere for a while now. I don’t get to stuff myself the way I’d like but occasionally mum will make a totally massive meal just so I can feel full for a change, usually something like pasta or mashed potato to bulk it out, but its not as frequent as I’d like.

I knew you wouldn’t want to hear any of this so I didn’t write it. I tried a couple of times and just got to this point and figured my days as a circus fat lady are over so why bother with the blog. Well that was what I was thinking for a long while but Vicky somewhat took up my role of family shame over the past few months and that’s a story you probably will like. Fucking perverts.

Bear in mind I’m telling this from what she told me so it might be a bit awkward to read. Anyway, after I got kicked out she got a lot of shit off my mother for helping me get this bad, but especially for not doing much when I had the stroke. To be fair I didn’t have a clue and I often felt that shit. I guess the eye should have given away that there was a problem but whatever. She had lost me, basically her only friend, a stranger moved in who didn’t want to know her and she spent a lot of time in her room just watching TV, she told me she just didn’t know what to do.

Without my bad influence and sending her to get fast food and takeaways her weight dropped off quite quickly. She was 40 stone when I’d last seen her, when she came to visit me in summer she was probably less than 30 but told me she’d not used a scale. She said she was hungry all the time but that overall she felt better and could walk around the flat now without wanting to pass out. She even started doing the cleaning again. She wanted me back in the flat but that wasn’t going to happen. Without me there she couldn’t claim a carer’s allowance and that was really fucking up her finances. She saw her doctor about signing off as disabled like me but the doctor just gave her a note for the job centre saying that she had limited fitness and wouldn’t be able to take on demanding roles, so the job centre basically ignored it and she had to apply for work. I haven’t worked in a long time now but I know its gotten harder out there and nobody was going to take her on for anything.

She kept complaining that she couldn’t be expected to get a job with her limited mobility (a slightly cheeky over exaggeration) and they eventually sent her for a disability assessment. She had to attend a meeting at an old council office, she was asked some questions by a nurse with a computer who wasn’t interested in anything and then had to have a meeting with a couple of arse holes who obviously didn’t want her claiming anything. They asked her about all sorts of personal stuff and she had to tell them she can barely walk, she struggles even getting dressed, her legs and back hurt constantly, she has trouble breathing and she’s diabetic, but they just didn’t give a fuck and sent her home. She got a letter back from the job centre saying she was declared fit for work. I told her she should have borrowed my fucking wheelchair.

After that she failed to show up for a few interviews and had her benefits stopped. My dad didn’t charge her rent because shes family and that was part of the deal when she moved in but she didn’t have any money for anything and she didn’t want to ask anyone either. I didn’t have any to give her myself or I would have.

So a few weeks go by and she comes over really upset about everything, says she’s going to lose her car because she can’t afford the insurance, so we talked about stuff she could do. My mum saw her crying, weedled it all out and then gave her 400 to get her by for a few days and so she could keep her car, but we still didn’t know what to do after that. The thing is, I knew exactly where she could get pretty much unlimited food from.

I’d kept in touch with Steven over the years, quietly so my dad and his wife didn’t kill him, and I still knew his email address so I told Vicky to just email him, say I said hi and explain why I wasn’t online and see if he wanted to chat. She got a email back before the end of the day and they were chatting probably more than I ever had. Obviously he did exactly what I expected he would do and the moment he realised a fat girl needed food he was round the flat with bags of takeaway.

I will admit, even though we don’t have much of a relationship anymore, since I got my phone back he’s brought me over a fair few mcdonald’s meals when my parents have been out....

Vicky is somewhat impressionable and Steve is very persuasive so she was basically fucked and I should have known better, or at least felt worse. But frankly I can’t feel much other than jealous. He has spent the last year and a half feeding the living shit out of her and to be honest I’m amazed she’s still alive because he had me eating so much it was coming out of my ears. She was back at around 40 stone as of last summer and I haven’t seen her since. Apparently she’s too big for her car now and doesn’t leave the flat. There’s nobody to drag her away like there was with me and nobody in my family knows that Steve is feeding her so they’ve just carried on. Even better for him, he got divorced years ago now so its plain sailing and he only has to hide from Vicky’s family rather than his own. So I don’t know whats going to happen but I’ll be sure to post something when I hear back,

My life is completely boring now and my diet is mostly bland and uninteresting. I game all day, don’t get much to snack on and can’t drink because of some of the medication I’m on now. I have an oxygen mask for most of the day and all night because my blood oxygen is so low without it. It doesn’t look like things are going to get any better because these are all lifetime issues now apparently, and I now qualify for weight loss surgery which would improve my life and my chances of living past 40 by a huge margin. So that might happen too. Fuck knows. I don’t know or care anymore. Hope this wasn’t too depressing.

Ali x

Jan '16

Hi all,

So Christmas was good, a little different this year, and not a lot has changed since my last post but I may as well go through the good and bad of the past 6 months or whatever it has been.

What was great was that right after my last post I had a friend from up country come to visit me for the first time in years. I haven’t seen Jess in almost a decade and in fact the last time I did I wrote about it on here. Its been such a long time that we have both changed a lot. She has been married and divorced in that time, worked for several different companies and now has a job as a personnel manager and makes more in a year than I have probably ever earned in the jobs I’ve had put together! She hasn’t had kids yet thank god because I don’t think I could have handled little ones running around at my feet, but she intends to before she is 30. She still looks the same and unlike me is the same dress size she was 10 years ago. She was as polite as possible but I could tell she was shocked at the state of me. Probably of the state of the house too.

Obviously I didn’t go out to meet her, I had explained to her my troubles over the years in emails and facebook so she knew I was housebound. It was only because we got the house now that I had space for her to stay. Vicky tidied up, I’m not really capable of getting rubbish off the floor, but I helped in the little ways I could. I had got into my nicest clothes, albeit huge leggings and a blue tshirt, sprayed myself liberally with deodorant and tried my best not to make a mess of the living room. We were mostly living off takeaways at that point and it was still summer so the smell probably wasn’t amazing but Vicky had cleared most of the mess up and even hoovered a little. Vicky let her in and she left her suitcase in the hall and came to give me a hug. She didn’t mention my size once but like I said I could see in her face she was shocked. I was and still am pretty fucking massive.

We chatted for hours and I couldn’t help myself but nibble on snacks. She didn’t eat and I felt bad but got incredibly hungry. She wondered if we could go out for a meal but she didn’t push for it when I said I didn’t feel able to go out, so we ended up having takeaway. And getting a bit drunk haha ;) She got on with Vicky really well too.

She stayed two nights and a day, but I think she got bored. Apart from chat, eat and watch TV we didn’t have much to do. Vicky was going to take her shopping but it rained and neither of them felt like it then so in the end she just went home, but she seemed happy to have stayed.

A while after that something bad happened. It was all my fault but I got lazier and lazier and we kept eating the junk food so I got to a stage again where I was in bed not moving at all. I kept getting up for the toilet until after a few weeks I had to give up and we went back to nappy pads for a while. Then the bad thing happened, I got an infection in my thigh. It was probably mostly a pressure sore but I spent about a month in bed without washing so chances are that had something to do with it.

I got pretty sick pretty fast and wound up in hospital for a few days again. It wasn’t a military operation again, I fit out the door and was even able to walk when I was pushed to it, but I felt like hell the whole time. My leg was fine in the end but I had to stay there for over a week and didn’t get any fast food, which as you know for me is pretty painful. I was 47 ½ stone when I got to hospital and 45 when they sent me home. Vicky got a telling off from my mum for enabling me, but truth be told without pressure from living with family she’s getting as bad as me. She is a lot fitter than I was at her size but she’s getting worse.

So as soon as I was home we had plans for keeping my weight down and keeping us both off the junk food but it never happened. Vicky is staying fit(er) by looking after me. She gives me a bed bath once a day and treats any sores I get before they become an issue. It was either that or we had to hire nurses and I don’t want them in every day to look after me. We have both kept eating loads but so far I’ve not had any more issues and Vicky has gone up a size since then but is still looking and feeling the same. I got her to weigh herself and she was 40 stone 5 just before Christmas.

Christmas was brilliant, I got a lot of cool stuff and I’m now absorbed by fallout 4. This has been eating into my nap time the past week, so probably going to have to play less of it! I have mostly just eaten, napped and watched TV for the past year, but getting back into gaming is messing up my routine a bit. Not stopping me from eating though, I’m still ballooning. Christmas dinner was a bit of a nightmare, Vicky cooked us a turkey and potatoes like normal then we just got frozen Yorkshire puddings and gravy and basically filled up on that. Neither of us wanted to go to the effort of making veg. After that she treated me to two family sized xmas puddings with over a litre of double cream and a trifle. I also ate about a dozen mince pies before I went into a food coma.

I will admit that we haven’t tried hard, but I haven’t been able to stand for a while now. And I’ve gained. A lot. So its probably not possible if I’m honest. We reckon I’m about 50-55 stone again but I’m not getting up to find out. I’ll probably be rushed to hospital soon for one stupid reason or another anyway, so I’ll find out then.

So a day in my life right now is pretty good. This morning I woke up around 10. First of all I have my mini fridge so I can take off my mask and help myself to milkshake or pepsi or whatever I need. I usually wake up terribly thirsty, in fact I wake up a few times a night to drink. Thankfully I can wee whenever I need to because I’m back on the pads. Then I call to Vicky, who is usually up, but if she isn’t I need to wait. This morning Vicky got me a fried breakfast, 8 sausages, 12 rashers of bacon, fried mushrooms, baked beans, fried bread and scrambled eggs. Then I had 6 crumpets and 4 pan au chocolates. I brush my teeth and put my mask back on for a while and she does a bed bath and changes my pad. With the adjustable bed its actually not too much effort but its still not easy. She’s getting very unfit, she has to sit down while I do under my arms and the parts of myself I can reach. I have to roll to the sides using the harness so she can clean my backside and inside the rolls. Then I’m done moving for the day and I have a nap. Today I only napped for about an hour before I woke up hungry. Vicky was watching TV and didn’t want to cook so we ordered a pizza from a local place, I got 3 because they aren’t very big and 4 portions of fries. When I ate all that I had 15 chocolate filled donuts and a chocolate trifle. This is usually a good time to take some of my assortment of pills, Vicky tends to deal with what and lays it in front of me, I just take whatever she thinks I’m supposed to. She knows what she is doing anyway. Then I had another nap, again with my mask because its not worth the risk of not having it on. I woke up and played fallout for a few hours while eating chicken nuggets and chips that Vicky made for me, then it was dinner time and she ordered in again. We had burgers from a kebab shop and I ate 6 half pounders and 4 portions of fries. I was gaming so it took a while and they went cold but I still didn’t care, I was pretty hungry. Then I was eating Pringles and the last of the xmas chocs most of the night until I started to get really hungry again. Thankfully for me so was Vicky and she decided on Dominos, from which I’m still exhausted, I ate 2 large pizzas, chicken strips, wedges and mozzarella and 2 tubs of ben and jerrys. My belly has felt massive all night and I can barely breathe without the mask on. I took my evening pills a little while ago and Vicky has gone to bed already.

I haven’t been able to get that ‘orgasmicly full’ feeling back yet but I’m still hopeful. Also thinking of allowing a feeder into my life, yes it might kill me but at the way things are going I could be dead any day and I’d like to be fucked again before that happens! Anyway those thoughts are just frustrating me.

I’m going to try and get to sleep. Lots of love and a happy new year! Ali xxXXxx

August '15

Hi All,

It has been a very busy, very emotional year so far and its not even over. I’m sorry I have left you all hanging for an update but I have been up and down emotionally and trying to bury my head in the sand as it were.

Let’s go back to pancake day this year. It’s usually one of my favourite days of the year because as you’ll know if you read this, I fucking love pancakes. But at the time I was on kind of a ‘diet’, and with my diabetes my aunt wasn’t keen on giving me loads of sugar and lemon and a pile of pancakes. I pestered her to the point where she was actually pissed off with me and said it was better when I was in my room all evening because at least I didn’t whinge at her for food all the time. In the end we had a bit of a row and the next day she offered to compromise, she’d make the batter and a few pancakes but I wasn’t to have syrup or sugar on them. I whinged of course but the night before Vicky sneaked me a bottle of maple syrup. I asked if I could have breakfast in bed that morning and she agreed, Vicky ate with me. Aunty gave us a pile of big pancakes that was about a foot high, then brought another one out almost as big after we had ploughed through a few. Vicky was allowed syrup and she just had maple syrup on hers. We finished them all and I wanted more. Vicky was stuffed but agreed to make more so I waited a while and she started to churn them out for me. Every bite I felt my stomach stretching and it felt so good. I had this really warm, heavy feeling in my belly and it spread over my whole body. It had been so long since I’d felt this way, basically an orgasm from food, and I just couldn’t stop. I ate and ate and felt so sick but so good at the same time. My pussy was wet and tingling as I struggled to finish each one, looking at my huge body swelling out in front of me…

I felt as though I was coming close to orgasm, no idea how many I ate but I ran out of syrup, and it wasn’t a small bottle, then Vicky told me we were out of eggs and when I had to stop eating I just felt so sick. I belched and immediately vomited down my front. It’s like reality suddenly hit me and I felt so fucking bad, my chest all tightened up when I puked and I had some of the worst chest pains ever. I was shaking from all the sugar and Vicky kept asking if I was alright while she cleaned me up. I spent 2 days in bed after that feeling ill and sorry for myself (I still ate, duh) and I think me starting to sink back into my old routine pissed my aunt off. We kind of got on eachothers nerves for a while and its really unfair because she’s so good to me but in the heat of the moment I just lose my rag and have a tantrum about the stupidest things. Plus I absolutely hate being made to get up every day, it literally causes me so much pain!

So we carried on for a while and I didn’t realise I was actually causing her a hell of a lot of stress. She didn’t say anything but a while back my dad cut the amount he paid for my keep, which my aunt mostly put on food, because he didn’t want me eating so much, but then she didn’t argue when I started to eat as much as usual and began costing her a fortune in shopping and takeaways.

So she was stressing like hell and ended up collapsing while she was out shopping. She didn’t want to talk much about it for a while but she said her legs just gave way while she was out picking things up one morning. My mum went to meet her because it wasn’t far from her and by then paramedics were already getting her in the car to go to hospital. They took a while getting back to her with blood tests and things but they think she had a panic attack and with her weight and getting older she just fell over and couldn’t get back up. She said she spent almost half an hour on the floor having people stare and it was horrible.

That was a while ago now and after that mum talked to me about maybe moving back to my own place again. It was a long discussion, and she didn’t say it was to do with what happened to aunty but I knew it had been something to do with it. Moving was obviously going to be almost impossible and I outright refused to lose weight, but mum just pointed out that I had no choice since I wouldn’t be able to get my own food until I was light enough to get out of the house.

I kicked right off to be honest and I said some things I shouldn’t have said, but in the end I had to resign because even Vicky said she wasn’t going to enable me anymore when it was causing everyone more stress and slowly killing me.

The few weeks after that were pure hell. I fell out with Vicky a bit because she kind of betrayed me, and I know now that’s now how it is its just that’s how I felt. I was made to get up every day and in the end I was made walk around the living room. I lost a ton of weight, according to the scales I was down as low as 44 stone for the first time in ages. I didn’t get takeaways and I only ate at meal times. I barely got full at all. Thankfully that’s all over now and I would rather leave it behind me.

I got fit enough to get out of bed with help, walk around the house and do most things ok, but I couldn’t get back up from anywhere. My chest also hurt like fuck. I have never been so sweaty and breathless. Once I was at that stage we looked at places I could go. Dad had a 3 bedroom flat to rent out which was empty as it was 3 students using it and they were going elsewhere, so he went and cleared it up and offered Vicky a place there too. Vicky has pretty much cared for me for ages now and he knows that and wanted to help her out in return, so she’s moved totally out of her mums and in with me now.

Getting the stuff there was easy, we just got a removals company, but getting me there, well, that was awkward.

At 44 stone I was only a bit heavier than Vicky. She’d used me not being allowed junk food to not go for it so much herself and slimmed down a bit but she never said to what. But she was probably only 7-8 stone less than me, but I’m just disgustingly unfit. I have had so long without exercise now that I’m just a wobbly mess, she’s managed to stay mobile and carry 40 stone like its nothing. I was practically immobile by 30 stone. She helped me in the wheelchair out to the car. She’d got a bigger car for herself a while ago, a second hand people carrier, because it was the only thing with enough room for her legs. Even so with my legs so big I had to get in the back…. And the seatbelts wouldn’t go around me. At all. I didn’t say anything and I pretended I had it clipped in but actually I was holding it steady. The journey had my heart racing. I wan panicking that people would stare and I was looking around the whole time and thinking everyone was watching me, so I didn’t even really get to enjoy going out for the first time in about 4 or 5 years.

But, on the way Vicky asked if I wanted a Mcds because she was starving and I said no because I’m on a diet. Trololol. I of course said yes, then thanked her so much that I pretty much said it about 10 times while we were going around the drive through. I ordered 2 big mac meals, 2 quarter pounder meals and 2 double cheeseburgers. It just felt so long since I ate my fill that I almost made myself sick in her car! 4 milkshakes by the way, not good fuel for walking on! We’d stopped to eat and when we got there my belly was sloshing with all the shake and I badly needed the toilet. She helped me into my chair and thankfully it’s a ground floor flat so we just went straight in. Then I found that there are 2 steps up to the back of the house where the bathroom is and I had to get up and waddle in to relieve myself. Also the seat wasn’t set up yet so I broke the toilet seat off and almost slipped off.

We got everything set up nicely. The front room is on the right as you go in, then you have my room on the left with two nice big windows thank fuck cuz its been boiling! Then up the step is a kitchen, two more bedrooms, a bathroom and a utility room out the back with a washer and tumble dryer. I’m talking to dad about getting the steps made into a ramp but he’s reluctant. I think hes hoping that needing to step up them is going to keep me mobile. He doesn’t realise I just use the commode and only go up them right now for a shower. Though he says its just because it makes it harder to rent to students.

So here we are in our own little flat, my diet was lifted and its backfired on them anyway since now aunty isn’t cooking, Vicky and I are living almost entirely off of takeaways. I have ballooned again and I’m probably going to end up immobile again. At the moment I get up once a week for a shower and Vicky has to help me. I use the commode and she empties it for me, in return I buy the food, so its kind of fair. I don’t want to be immobile to the point where I soil the bed again but I can’t stop gorging so I will just see what happens when it happens. I do have my adjustable bed though so its not so bad. Still on lots of pills and oxygen at night. And during the day I guess, I sleep a lot. The only way I got through the summer was trying to sleep on bellies full of ice cream.

Sarah has been to see me twice and we have had drinks in the living room (pretty much the only times I get up) and watched movies. She’s trying to look after herself a bit better but as usual it isn’t working and I keep telling her she needs to let herself go and come live with us and gorge all day. She is happy living with her boyfriend though and besides, she knows she would get huge if she did haha ;)

I haven’t felt this free or fulfilled in so long! All the while living with family I worried that I would be forced to lose weight and time and time again I was. Now I’m free to eat takeaways every meal and I am being such a fucking pig. I just feel so FULL! Every meal is making me so full up that I get that tingling in my pussy. I rub my belly whenever I’m not shoving food in my mouth and I’m so horny lately that it feels as though I have wet myself every evening. Even when I had slimmed down to 44 stone I still couldn’t reach, even with my toy, so its still aching and still needs servicing, but I have been talking to a few former suitors. The only thing that worries me is how quickly I’ll eat myself to death if I have a feeder! I don’t know how many calories I’m getting through but put it this way, between us Vicky and I are spending around about £125 a day on food. That’s snacks from supermarkets and the 2-4 takeaways a day we are getting through.

Vicky isn’t happy with piling on more weight, she reckons she’s over 40 stone but she’s still more mobile than me. That said, she can’t do much anymore, she isn’t going out for anything but fast food runs and she hasn’t cleaned the flat since we moved in which was going to be one of her things. We are waiting for a Chinese tonight, hopefully its going to fill me up, if not I have my fridge full of treats up on top of a cabinet by my bed so I can just help myself haha! Lots of donuts to get through anyway.

Oh and I have someone coming to visit soon who I haven’t seen in AGES! Made me feel so good to be able to offer her a place to stay. Will see how that goes and maybe do a blog about it. And if you don’t hear from me, assume I’m either being forced to lose weight again or my heart has finally given up.

Ali xxxXXxxx

Jan '15

Hey all!

I didn’t intend to leave you all hanging this long. I usually do an update on things around about Christmas time, but some shit happened and some things have changed and I just got kind of out of this mindset for a while.

I suppose I’ll begin a little while after I last did an update. I think it was October. For weeks and probably months I was feeling like something was wrong but generally I feel like shit all over most of the time so its hard to pinpoint stuff and hard to get worried about stuff feeling bad when you’re like this, but I was actually diabetic. Well, I say was, I still am, apparently it doesn’t just go away, ever, so yeah, it finally caught up with me.

Its only type 2 and its ‘manageable’ but apparently that means changing my whole lifestyle and taking a few pills every day. I also have to check my blood sugar levels every day with this little blood glucose box thing and the doctor wants to come and take a blood sample occasionally.

It only got diagnosed because I kept complaining that my vision was getting blurry, like my eyes were always watery. Vicky looked up symptoms and it turned out I had other symptoms too, like being thirsty all the time and peeing loads and being tired too often. That made me worry because the thought of losing my eyesight really put the shits up me. I spoke with my doctor about some of my symptoms and she tested me. Vicky also badgered me into talking to her about my snoring because apparently during the night or when I’m sleeping I sometimes stop breathing and it scares her. She said that its obstructive sleep apnoea which is common in people who are ‘severely overweight’ and the best course of action was to lose weight. Failing that, as she knew I was going to ‘struggle’ with that, she recommended I got an air tank to breathe from during the night. It wasn’t very expensive and its just a mask that I have to sleep with. I thought at first that it was going to annoy me but actually it ends up feeling like it isn’t there and I sleep better anyway.

I had been warned by my doc that I was pre-diabetic before, I just never took it seriously. Now I’m forced to confront a few lifestyle changes which, I have to tell you, have been absolute hell for me.

I have had to lower the amount of sugar I’m eating. At least, that’s the idea, my diet hasn’t changed much but I have made some effort towards it with my drinks, I haven’t had as many energy drinks. My new diet is fairly similar to the old one but sadly I have lost a few stone. Not a lot and I’m still massive, though a lot of the weight I had built up before was (I think) in pockets of fluid in my legs which have gone down with the change of lifestyle, but I didn’t really have much choice since I got bullied into ‘moving’.

Apparently the worst thing I could do was to stay in bed not moving all day. My legs had terrible circulation and she told me that if I don’t start getting out of bed and walking a few paces every day, I may actually end up having them amputated. Its probably not likely but she really scared me. I haven’t really walked in 5 years or so now, and in the last 2 or 3 years I had only even stood up once or twice, so my legs are totally fucked. I think the muscles have just wasted totally. I used to have quite strong legs from carrying my bulk around all day but as soon as I stopped getting up they started wasting.

So my new regime has gone something like this since about November.

I get up about 8 for pills and instead of being woken with food, sadly I’m kind of being coerced into getting out of bed in exchange for breakfast. Which, at about 55 stone feels near enough fucking impossible every morning. I get hauled up by my aunt and we work together to get my feet down off the bed and onto the floor. We take a break and she offers me water if I need it. When I’m ready she helps me to my feet, which is easier from this bed since its higher up. I have to waddle to the end of the bed, which I hate. Every time my chest hurts, my heart thuds, I get breathless, I feel like I’ll faint, I want to puke, its just so horrible. It probably takes anything up to 1 or 2 minutes to get me there and I try to go faster because my legs hurt and I feel like they won’t hold me any longer. Then I get in the chair and she wheels me to the downstairs bathroom, which has been converted into a wet room, so there’s just a shower with a curtain and I don’t need to get into the bath anymore or into the shower cubicle. I use the toilet for a while and then get ready for a shower.

At this point I get my first reward that perks me up a bit, a slimfast milkshake. Its actually kind of a cheat. Well, a big cheat. Its whole milk rather than semi skimmed and its like 3 or 4 times bigger than its meant to be. I have to move over to the shower seat to start being cleaned. Auntie gets into my rolls and I actually have a really good clean and I enjoy it a lot more than being sponged. Vicky has done it a few times too showering with me. Doing it this way is also helping the sores and broken skin on my back and ass. I can’t do it or see it myself but we are getting it cleaner and the skin has softened up a bit. Plus, I’m not covered in my own shit anymore which really is a fucking bonus. I have a large seat that goes over the toilet and another that goes over a chemical toilet by my bed so sadly my days of peeing whenever I like are behind me. But I smell better.

When that’s done I dry off and brush my teeth. I have a few sets of massive tshirts and leggings that I get myself into. I don’t have underwear but then again I don’t really need it so whats the point. I get pushed into the living room and by then my stomach is properly growling. I’m meant to have bran flakes or muesli, fruit and a yogurt. What I actually have is a 8 slices of buttered toast, a fried breakfast of sausages, eggs, bacon and beans and if I want more, which I always do, 8 buttered crumpets and a selection of Danish pastries. Of which I select all but whichever one my aunt wants.

I watch some TV and usually go back to my room for gaming. I’m still pretty bad on my snacks during that time. I would like to say I only have a few but its pretty much constant. Crisps and chocolate mostly but if my aunt is feeling like giving into me it can be donuts or even a pizza. Lunch blends into the snackfest but I’m expected to come back into the dining room to eat. I still get whatever I want but fast food is once again off the table as it were (but I can talk more about that in a minute). I end up full enough after lunch that I stop eating for a while and usually have a nap. My stomach is still pretty fucking massive and seems to take all morning and lunch to actually get to a point where I want to stop eating. I don’t always force myself to keep eating but if the food is there it tends to get finished.

I sometimes wake up and have a few snacks, jaffa cakes, Pringles, stuff like that, before I have dinner. Again dinner is something reasonably healthy taken to extreme portion sizes and I will sit and eat until I feel ready to explode. If I go back to my room I usually get in bed and will stay there for the night, in which case I play with my huge naked belly and tits. I may have lost a little weight but they sure as hell haven’t shrunk. That’s why I think I lost it from my legs if anywhere. I still feel just as fat and love to play with it all. It gets me wet and worked up and I end up frustrated and tired, as usual. I will have plenty more snacks during the evening, cream cakes and éclairs are my weak points at the moment and ice cream if I’m allowed it.

There is sometimes supper, but it isn’t guaranteed anymore since I’m not allowed to order a takeaway without my aunt’s permission. If I’m hungry she sometimes makes me something like rice pudding or a milkshake, but probably 2-3 times a week we have a Chinese, Indian or kebab. Usually one every other day lately but more at the weekends.

I’m gradually getting back to my old diet but its going to take a while. I’m ok with having to move, as unfit as I am, because it means I get to go out of my room. We are talking of, if I can fit into it, a car journey soon to get me back out into the world. I haven’t tried yet. I don’t want to get out to the car only to find out I don’t fit. I will try eventually I’m just not ready for it yet.

Well anyway, that’s how most days go, but then there are the ‘fat’ days. My aunt goes out some mornings and if I feel like a lie in I will just get up for the toilet in my room with her help, then get back in bed. I have to plan this carefully with Vicky of course, but she usually times it about right and brings me a McDonalds breakfast. I love it so much I could marry it. I get 2 double sausage egg mcmuffins, 2 bacon egg mcmuffins, 4 hash browns, 2 trays of pancakes and 4 large milkshakes. Vicky has a thing for their breakfasts too now so we just sit and pig out. Then later on she goes out to get us both a fast food lunch. Sometimes we get a dominos delivered or something like that but she is happy to go get KFC or Burger King. Again, we eat TONS. She’s gotten so fat herself that she weighed in just after xmas at 39 stone 4. She’s adamant she won’t get any bigger but it seems a silly thing to say when I literally see her stuffing herself like I do a few times a week. We both eat cream cakes and donuts and chocolate until we feel like we’ll puke. Vicky cleans up the mess but I think auntie knows what we get up to.

Christmas dinner was amazing as usual, but this year I sat up at the table in my wheelchair. It was a chance to really let go and just eat as much as I could without feeling judged. I probably ate the usual amount, but it felt like more since I’d been eating slightly less fat and grease during the weeks leading up to xmas than I usually do. I couldn’t get up at all after xmas dinner until I was almost ready for bed, by which time I was bursting for the toilet. Not all of the family joined us this year, it was just mum, auntie, Vicky and Kate. Dad had gone to his parents for xmas and the other side of the family had done another party elsewhere which caused a couple of cross words but its only one year out of dozens that its happened. Mum is still the same old mum thankfully and is just pleased to see me when she does. Kate seemed to have totally forgotten about her band as she seemed quite happy eating lots of everything anyway. I’d say she’s gotten fat again. Probably about 15 stone. Hard to guess, and she won’t tell. We all got our own xmas pudding this year, mine and Vicky’s were the biggest which I certainly didn’t complain about. By the time we were done I was in a total food coma.

So here I am, back in bed, gorging my way through a tin of biscuits and a tub of ice cream before going to sleep. Ironically even though I’m now technically seriously ill, I kind of feel better. Just life in general is starting to pick up again and I haven’t even had to really diet, just slow down a bit on the stuff that was definitely going to kill me. I mean, maybe it still will, but I’d like that to be a bit later on. Vicky will be here in the morning and I am fucking knackered from all this walking so I’m going to get to sleep for now and do another update soon.

Love love love

x-Ali-x