More Munchin

Yes, I deserve this

The doorbell rang. It was an Amazon order, and I did not recall ordering anything. I opened the package like it was Christmas because I had no idea what was in it. Various sweats sizes starting at XL up through 10x and shirts from 1x to 10x. I thought to myself, Jesus Christ, what was I thinking? Hell no. I laid them out on the back of the couch to be sent back when I got the chance. In the meantime, I was getting hungry and resolved to take it easy tomorrow, so I went to sleep. I had dreams of eating fantastically delicious cream puffs and chocolate milk.

I started the day with two servings of oatmeal and wanted to add some milk, the 50 wings fell out of the fridge, and I put them back. I reasoned that after breakfast, I would divvy them into bags and eat them over the next several days. While having my oatmeal, I also had a couple of bananas for potassium and an orange. I had to get rid of this junk food and had a few cookies; I thought I had finished them already and had a chocolate cream donut and a vanilla cream donut. I got out the bags and counted ten wings to a bag. That's five meals right there, I thought. I was feeling very heavy and tired and went to watch TV. I took a bag of chips from the top of the fridge in my haste to save money the other day; I bought six bags to get the discount. The problem was I'm not too fond of chips. I sat down with those and a two-liter bottle of mountain dew from that same special. I was going to finish this stuff over the next few weeks. I don't want it to go to waste.

After watching a mindless show about sea otters, I realized I had finished the bag of chips and the two-liter of soda. I was still hungry. It was lunchtime, so I grabbed a bag of hot wings and a bag of barbeque potato chips, and some very blue cheese salad dressing, of which I also had several because of the sale. Those flavors would be good together, I thought. I made short order of those ten wings and half the bag of chips while licking the blue cheese and franks hot sauce from my fingers. I thought I could eat more of them today. What's the difference if I eat them today or next week? I ended up eating all fifty wings and two bottles of blue cheese dressing. And all the chips, along with a half dozen of lava cakes and two two-liter bottles of soda, those lava cakes were so dry.

I stood looking in the freezer at the ice cream. I took out a gallon to scoop some for dessert because I was worth it. I had nearly finished the gallon by the time I sat on the couch, and I was feeling a little ditsy, I think, because of the sugar. I went back to the freezer, pulled out a couple of burritos, and popped them in the microwave while I waited; I ate a few more zingers. I thought I deserved to be able to eat what I wanted, fuck society. I should just eat what I want, and I will show them. I wolfed down the burritos with a vengeance and threw in a few more while I started baking a chocolate cake, finishing the zingers box and a two-liter of soda. I thought, I wanted more out of life, and eating was getting more. I deserve it. I'm worth it, and screw anyone that says differently. The more defiant I became, the more I ate with purpose, pushing my limits. I cooked up 5 pounds of chicken in a Hoisin sauce and prepared a pound of rice while waiting for the cake. I finished the burritos, donuts, and cookies. I thought I had finished already.

I started baking cookies that I also got the deal on. I ate the cookie dough from 3 of the tubes because I couldn't wait for them to cook. The cake and chicken were done at the same time. I left the cake to cool while eating the chicken and rice, started on a gallon of chocolate milk, and ate the three dozen hot chocolate chip cookies the other two tubes made. I frosted the cake with a delightful white chocolate frosting I mixed with a pound of cream cheese and then polished it off. While sitting on the couch, I was choking down a half gallon of chocolate milk and a party-size bag of Reese's peanut butter cups. I started coming out of it again, "what am I doing."

You deserve this, I thought. Everything's ok, relax into it. I said "No" out loud, and my thoughts came back; you know you want to. "No, I don't," I asserted. Yes, you do, and with that, I got up and started shoveling everything in the cabinets into my mouth; it was like a bad dream. I felt helpless, it was my body, but I felt like someone else was controlling me. I started to drift off again; "yes, I deserve this." I said like a mantra. "I'm starving and can't get enough to eat." After 40 or so minutes of continuous gluttonous eating, everything I could, I went to the couch, my belly poking straight out the slope of my stomach intrigued me. It started below my rib cage, and my now fattened breasts were pushed up and out to the sides. I had hardly noticed the girls growing until now.

My belly jutted out 10 to 14 inches and was rock hard; my waist had thickened considerably. I was rounding out the 1x shirt; it looked like it was painted on around the middle and loose on top. The large sweatpants were up near my belly button. The tie was not tied, and the size of the belly held the pants up. Not overly tight, but I grabbed the next larger sweatpants, XXL, and a 2x shirt. If I kept this up, I would need those bigger clothes. Tomorrow was the writers club, and I almost didn't want to go. I had nothing to contribute, but I needed to get out of the house. I weighed in at just under 220.