Hi all,
Not a lot has changed since I last posted. I still haven’t
been up off the bed, I’ve accepted that I will probably be here for the rest of
my life. However I may have lost a little bit of weight. I had a bad chest
infection a few weeks back, just as it started to get really cold, and I couldn’t
eat for 3 days. It wasn’t just ‘oh, I don’t feel like eating’, I was literally
throwing up anything I tried to eat within a couple of minutes. I couldn’t even
drink anything fizzy, I was on water for most of the 3 days until I started to
get better, and for the 2 weeks after my aunt was really careful on what she
let me eat, it was mostly toast and soup and to be honest I didn’t mind because
I had felt like hell for so long but my guts were roaring with hunger.
When I felt better, my aunt told me I looked a lot
better, and not just because I was feeling well but because I looked noticeably
slimmer. It was hard for me to see any difference, but she pointed out that the
skin on my legs was a lot looser (I think because they were so much less
swollen with fluid) and my belly wasn’t as big as usual. I still couldn’t see
it but my mum agreed that I looked a lot healthier.
They asked me to try to keep eating less and to try to
move more, but I again refused to listen. I told them straight I wanted to get
back to eating normally again as I was feeling fine, but as a compromise I
agreed to do some exercises in the morning, noon and evening. Ultimately they
want me to finally get back off the bed and at least into the wheelchair. I don’t
know if that is possible but they seem to think I can do it even by Christmas.
Obviously, I at first tried to get out of doing any exercise. I claimed my
chest hurt, my head ached, my back ached, but my aunt said that was always the
case and I needed to do something, so refused to bring me any food until I had
finished the moves with her. It’s just stretches really. It’s very hard work
for me, obviously, because I haven’t done anything physical in a long time, but
I’m mostly just stretching my arms up and twisting my torso for a minute or
two. At first I was feeling sick and gasping for air after a few seconds but
now I can do about 2 minutes of gentle movement before I start to feel really
bad.
My doctor made a few checks on me while I was ill, but
given that I’m not really accepting any of her help, she isn’t really being all
that helpful to me. She thinks I am a lot slimmer than I was in the summer. She
said she was really concerned about how big I was getting back then but was a
lot happier to see me smaller. She thinks I could get up if I tried hard enough
and agrees I should be doing some exercises to build myself back up to getting
out of the bed. She said if I can get up, she wants to weigh me, to which I
said sure, because I know I’m not getting up any time soon.
The truth is, I’m scared shitless of getting out of bed.
It will be the first step in a long and hard and painful journey to making me a
normal, functional human being again, and I really don’t want to be one
anymore. I don’t think I can take the stress, mentally or physically, of doing
anything with my life. So since I have been getting back into the swing of my
old diet, I have been totally stuffing myself to bursting point every waking
hour.
It may seem strange because I’m always complaining about
how bad my life is stuck in this room, but I know how much worse it will be
while I’m getting better and I’m not ready for it. So once again, I’m deliberately
fattening myself up.
By now from reading this you probably have some idea how
much I eat, but I have been taking in some extra help to get my body back to
how it was earlier in the year. I’m still having my usual 4 meals a day, but I’m
getting lots of extra ‘snacks’ that I wouldn’t have thought of before, like I
will eat whole tubs of chocolate Philadelphia, peanut butter and nutella
straight from the jars, double cream straight out of the carton, condensed milk
straight from the tin, entire packets of biscuits like oreos or digestives, and
probably other things that I can’t think of off the top of my head, but you get
the idea. My aunt would flip if she knew I was drinking cream straight, but I
make my shopping orders online and I get her to bring them into me so I can
sort stuff out before she puts things away (like toiletries and snacks) so I
just hide stuff like that as best I can in the bed before she comes back to put
stuff away. Plus Vicky is being an amazing help. I haven’t specifically said I
want to gain weight but she knows how I feel about pushing my limits and she
takes any excuse at the moment to have a fast food binge with me so its easy to
get her to pick up junk food, muffins, cheesecakes, donuts, creamcakes etc . .
. we eat so much together its crazy. I have pretty much eaten constantly and had
constant stomach aches for a couple of weeks now. I only stop eating to do my
few minutes of exercise, to have my wash and pad changed, to sleep/nap and when
I think I will puke. So, yeah, probably going to put all that weight back on
and then some ;)
Yesterday I ate so much for dinner I thought I was going
to have another heart attack. Most of the family were over again for the day so
I got cleaned up and stayed poop free until the evening. I managed to get an
old t-shirt on with help but obviously it didn’t really go on properly so I was
still half wrapped in a blanket. I did look half presentable though. I even had
my hair up in a bun and did a little makeup to make my face seem a little less
rank.
My cousin Kate was the first to say hello to me. She is
still 12 stone apparently and she doesn’t think she will lose any more weight
without surgery to remove the skin. That might be half the truth, but given
that somehow she is back to eating normal food again, I think there might be
more to it. When she first had it done (about a year ago, I think) she could
hardly eat anything, then it was just tiny portions but no fat, then she was
just eating like normal but small portions, and this year (according to Vicky,
because obviously I didn’t go in the dining room) she was eating fairly big
portions for someone who is supposed to have a tiny stomach. Still less than
average and much less than our family average or what she used to eat, but
quite a bit nonetheless. She even said she is glad she can eat again because
she’s looking forward to really pigging out at xmas dinner. How she could go through
with the band and then totally change her attitude back to fat ass mode within
a year amazes me. Then I saw Tim, who is about the same as he was before but
growing into his weight rather than just expanding further outwards, and Jess
who is now 13 and supposedly weighs 25 stone (ish, nobody is quite sure since
she won’t go on a scale).
Vicky arrived late but she brought me some extra treats
which I asked her to get (including 2 tubs of clotted cream, my new guilty
pleasure), and she ate with me. She is still around 35 stone and isn’t trying
to lose weight like her mum wants. She’s not being as much of a pig as she used
to though, which is good I guess. Her mum only allowed her one plate of the
roast dinner and one of each of the two desserts (trifle and chocolate sponge
with custard), but thanks to her excellent excuse of bringing me my plates, she
was able to scoff a little extra haha ;) but I just totally lost track of what
I was eating. I was bloated like a huge balloon, my upper belly became firm and
painfully stuffed. I had so much that I was feeling light headed by the time
she brought the desserts in. I had 2 bowls of trifle and 2 of the cake and
custard. It was really rich so I decided to empty my tubs of clotted cream into
the custard and I forced it all down, my eyes rolling in my head and my stomach
aching like crazy.
When it was all inside me the wall just hit me and I realised
how bad I felt. I was struggling to breathe, I felt like I would faint, my stomach
hurt, my chest felt tight and every heartbeat was like it was pumping treacle, I
couldn’t be still but it hurt to move, I was having to constantly swallow with
a dry throat to stop myself from being sick and I had to ask Vicky to give me
some time alone so I could have a little cry and groan as I rubbed my belly. I
haven’t been so full in so long, I actually thought I might die. I was sweating
like crazy and I think I could have actually had a heart attack if I had tried
moving more. I felt a lot better after an hour and after I had a shit, it
seemed half the pain in my guts was just me having the runs.
Today I had an absurdly huge burger. Sarah has been
eating at a pub with her boyfriend which we used to frequent and they always
did really huge, really nice burgers. She jokingly asked them if they did
takeaways and they apparently do, so she got me a burger which had 2 ¼ pound
pattys, lots of bacon, a ton of cheese, onion rings and salad and it was so
tall I had to dismantle it just to get it in my mouth. Was so lush though. She
brought me 12 krispy kremes again too because she is an angel like that, but
they only had the ring donuts so I pretty much swallowed them all whole. We
chatted for a while but I was sleepy and she had to be places so she wasn’t
here for long. I had dinner almost right after she left and my aunt had made a
huge platter of leftover roast from the big dinner she made yesterday so I am absolutely
stuffed right now. I’m scoffing down a few chocolate biscuits with chocolate
philly on them right now. I don’t really want them, in fact my stomach is killing
me, but I need to put some weight on.
The thought of deliberately gaining weight again has got
me so fucking horny. I can’t really do anything about it but I have been
playing with my tits whenever my hands have been free. I have ignored them so
much this past year that playing with them they feel tender and sore but it’s
still turning me on like crazy. I keep massaging my gut, as much of it as I can
reach, lifting the folds and groaning with pleasure at the thought of growing
bigger, patting it and just picturing how I could actually end up with my belly
covering my legs entirely if I can keep this up. I forgot how much I love my
fat when I give it attention, I just wish I wasn’t just teasing and frustrating
myself.
I don’t know for sure what I weigh, my doctor guesses
(based on how I looked when I came here about 2 years ago) about 45-50 stone.
But feeling like I do right now, I want to be 60 or even 70 stone. I don’t even
care if it kills me I just want to feel huge. I just don’t feel as big as I am,
I haven’t really felt like I’m ‘big enough’ since I was in my flat turning into
Steve’s butterball, but I want to be like that again . . . or bigger . . .
So yeah, there it is. I will either never update again
because my diet has killed me or, more likely, I will get sick and lose weight
again. But either way I won’t stop eating until I’m satisfied that I’m big
enough and I don’t have to move anywhere . . .
By all xxXXxx
