~BBW, Exercise A BBWs extended trip to the gym under adverse circumstances no one should have to put up with
(Authors note: inspired by real life experiences of a certain member of this site... you know who you are! thank you)
I've been big for quite a while now. I've always had a slow metabolism and in recent years, I guess I've really just let myself go. I enjoy my food and I don't like to watch what I eat. I don't see the point in it to be honest. I'm in near perfect health and men love my curves, so why curb my appetite?? That's not exactly how my mother sees it...
I'd always been chubby, but up until about 4 years ago, I'd had a serious obsession with going to the gym and watching what I ate to get that barbie doll figure that God obviously didn't intend for me to have. I'm not sure what spurred my revelation, but one day I just decided I was done with it. I started loving my body and stopped the ridiculous race to lose weight. Since then I've probably gained around 80 lbs and discovered this whole BBW/FA community. I've started to really enjoy the experience of eating as much as I want and liking the curvier figure that brings. Being full has almost become a sort of hobby for me. As anybody not familiar with this lifestyle would, my Mom started to worry...
Every time I went home, she'd make me weigh in and then give me speech after speech about the harms of weight gain. She recently came to visit me and surprise! bought me a 24-hour fitness membership as a "gift." I told her flat out that I have no intention of going there, but she insisted we go together the last day she was in town and she'd show me how "fun" it was. At 270 lbs, I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to be able to do many of the "fun" things she had in mind and I told her so, but she wasn't convinced. I hadn't gotten off the couch except to go out drinking with friends, walk to the car to get food, walk to the school cafeteria near my dorm, or walk to class in... well probably years. I knew I hadn't been to the gym since I left home and realized that life is better eating what I wanted.
She stuffed me into a XL T-shirt she'd brought from home for me and a pair of black spandex leggings. She'd even bought me running shoes. I looked ridiculous... not only could you obviously tell I never went to the gym, but I looked like an inflated soccer Mom. The sports bra she'd bought me was definitely too small and I could feel it chafing the fat roll below my breasts. Everything was jiggling in the thin leggings and tight shirt as my mother hurried me into her hybrid SUV to drive to the gym. Here it goes!--I thought as I prepared myself for a thoroughly embarrassing few hours.
Upon arriving at the gym, we put our things away and took seats on the stretching mat. My mother had made it very apparent that she was leading my workout and I had no choice on what we were doing. First was stretching... which didn't seem terrible to me.
Bending over trying to touch my toes was a little trying, but most of it wasn't too hard. Stretching my arms above my head made my shirt ride up and reveal some serious stretch marks and a big roll of fat under my belly button, but I wasn't too uncomfortable with that. My mom was clearly ashamed of my girth, but I couldn't let it get to me because I knew that the day was going to get much worse. As we sat down to try to do the butterfly stretch, I could feel the sweat moistening the space under my breasts on top of my belly. I couldn't believe I was sweating already... we were only stretching! Maybe I was more out of shape than I thought!
Next my mother handed me a medicine ball and sat behind me so our backs touched. Her tiny muscular back felt strange against my flabby wide one. She winced as she felt my back fat bulging out from under my tight sports bra touching her slim shoulder blades. We were supposed to pass the medicine ball to each other so it went in circles around us. Every time I turned, my belly shifted on my lap and my shirt rode up a little more. After a few quick turns, my bottom two fat rolls were bare on my lap jiggling as I heaved in and out. This was more tiring than it looked! My mom passed the ball so fast and I had to work hard to keep up, but I took my time passing the ball on my side. She was obviously frustrated, but I think she could feel my back dampening and my lungs heaving so she didn't push it. When we were done, she hopped up quickly as I leaned back on my hands and took a minute to catch my breath, forgetting to pull down my shirt to cover my exposed beer belly before she got a glimpse. Her eyes fixated on it immediately and a grimace spread across her face as she turned around and headed toward the scale.
I dutifully followed her and tried to guess how much I weighed. I couldn't see the numbers on my old-fashioned, non digital scale at home over my big gut and I was far too lazy to figure out a solution to this problem or buy a new scale, I had decided I didn't much care what the scale said some months ago. As my mother inched the marker on the manual scale farther and farther towards three hundred, I was getting a little uncomfortable. There goes 270... it can't be much farther, it's only been two months since 265... 280... something must be wrong with this scale.... 293?! How did that happen?? 23 pounds in just a little over 2 months??? I had been going out a lot with my new friends from work. I had been eating a little more than usual I guess at work. Working at Pizza Hut was a little more fattening than I thought I guess. Wow... almost 300 lbs... I never thought I'd get this big. I'd always figured that if I just ate what I wanted, at some point, I'd reach whatever weight I was supposed to be. I guess I was born to be obese.
I was torn between feelings of fear and feelings of... satisfaction My mom wasn't torn at all... she was disgusted. She said, "What do you have to say for yourself?" She was furious.
"I'm not an unhappy person Mom, I'm just fat... it's not the end of the world. We've talked about this a hundred times. The doctor says nothing is wrong with me, I'm just overweight."
She stormed back to the stretching mat and waited for me, fuming as I waddled over to her.
She got on her back on the mat and looked at me expectantly. I followed suit and hoped she wasn't suggesting what I thought she was suggesting... situps. I knew for a fact that there was no way I was going to be able to do a situp. Before I knew it, she was pumping away counting her situps out loud. Despite my misgivings, I made a concerted effort. I threw all my strength in trying to get my shoulders off the ground, but only succeeding in raising my head off the ground for a moment and flopping down heavily, exhaling loudly and feeling my fat move up and down toward my chin. I loved that feeling.
I know my mother saw my pathetic attempt at a crunch, but she did her best to ignore it.. still counting her own situps as if I was doing them with her. I continued trying my best just to appease her, but only succeeded in making my back sweatier and jiggling my belly around for everybody to see. I was feeling pretty exhausted already. All my mother had let me have for breakfast was a bowl of cereal and my stomach was screaming at me already.
Suddenly, she flipped over on her stomach and again shot me her expectant glare. I rolled over and slowly situated myself with one knee on the floor in pushup ready position. My skinny mother flew into quick pushups with audible counting. I took my knee off the ground to attempt my own pushups, but my weak arms quickly buckled and my heavy gut slapped the damp stretching mat noisily. I was shocked at how heavy my own body felt. I hadn't tried to do pushup in years. I grunted and squirmed trying to lift my pendulous midsection off the ground. It was no use. I put my knees down and resorted to girl pushups... my mother was struggling on her 25th normal pushup.
The girl pushups weren't so bad. They were difficult, but manageable. Every time I went down toward the mat, my big belly lightly rested on the mat, helping me support my weight. By the time my mother quit her pushups, I was struggling to do mine and was thankful for the rest. I prayed there was no more exercise, but she hopped up and marched over to the treadmills.
This was now turning into my worst nightmare. Not only was I starving and sweaty, but I was now going to have to jog?? There was no way. I dejectedly dragged myself over to the treadmill and got on the one next to my mother. The entire row of machines had trim moms twice my age running at speeds much faster than what I thought I could run. I was embarrassed to even get on the treadmill as it whined under my weight. This could be bad.
My mom started jogging at a 6.0 and I put in an ambitious 4.0. As the pace climbed toward 4, my legs struggled to get my body into a jog. My knees couldn't force my body to spring into the air... I was too heavy. It scared me a little bit, but why would anybody want to jog? It's practically torture. I lowered my pace to 3.0, but was still struggling a bit. I was sucking in air as fast as I could, but it was hard world trying to control all my jiggly body parts. I was very self-conscious at this point... I was pretty sure I was waddling and my belly and breasts were bouncing everywhere. I had to constantly pull the bottom of my T-shirt down as it rode up my swaying belly.
The sweat trickeld down the front of my belly and I could see my heather gray shirt absorbing it. The shirt clung to my skin and made me even more self-conscious. All I could think about was food. I was absolutely starving. I was heading straight to the cafeteria after this... no question about it. Mmm... juicy cheeseburgers, fries, milkshakes, donuts, pizza... my stomach felt like it was eating itself. I couldn't take it anymore... I pressed the emergency stop button on the treadmill and stood there wheezing while dripping sweat. As I looked at the stats of my workout, I'd only walked for six minutes and I'd burned under a hundred calories according to this stupid machine. That probably wasn't even the cereal I ate for breakfast.
I waddled over to the row of stationary bikes and plopped down on one... not planning on pedaling, but just resting after that monster of a speed walk. I felt nauseous I was so hungry. When my mother finally got off the treadmill, I gave her a painful puppy dog face, "Mommyyyy, could we please go home now? I've worked really hard, I swear I have. Look how sweaty I am. "
Her drill instructor facade faded momentarily. "I know sweetie just a few more things and we'll be done for the day, but I want you to come back every day and get rid of this big girl" she said as she poked her bony finger into my soft sweaty belly. After she turned around, i rolled my eyes and thought, "Yeahhhh right! Like I'm ever showing my fat face here again!"
She took me over to the thigh machine and had me sit down. My thighs naturally spread apart as my big belly settled in between them. I could sit with my legs together normally if I tried, but the back of the seat made me sit so forward that I couldn't get my belly on top of my thighs. My mother saw the problem and without a word, adjusted the seat back so I could lean back a little more, but I still had to grab the bottom of my damp paunch and lift it to get my legs between the levers of the machine. I kept hold of my belly while I did the thigh exercises so that it couldn't flop back between my legs, preventing me from closing them.
My mother seemed quite discouraged and after a few sets of thigh workouts, finally said we could leave. I was absolutely exhausted and I could hardly wait to get back to campus so I could get into that delicious cafeteria.
My mother spent the entire car ride back to my dorm explaining the virtues of a healthy diet and daily exercise to me. All of it went in one ear and out the other, but I acted like I was taking it all to heart. I was really just planning the gargantuan meal I was about to have in the cafeteria. We could both hear my stomach growling ravenously even over the air conditioner blasting. I loved the feel of the cold air on my sweaty belly and I wanted to get that sweaty shirt off, but it'd have to wait until after my meal. I was practically drooling out of anticipation by the time she dropped me off.
I gave her a hurried goodbye kiss as I practically leapt out of the car toward the cafeteria. She called after me as I waddled away, making me promise I would eat a salad for lunch. I walked as fast as I could toward the cafeteria on my exhausted legs. I was thankful for one thing... these leggings would really let me pig out
I piled my tray high with every kind of delectable treat you could think of. I could a bacon cheeseburger, curly fries, onion rings, two donuts, a milkshake, a slice of Hawaiian pizza, a calzone, and a piece of cheesecake. I wolfed it all down so fast that I hardly realized how strange I must look... a 293 pound girl in gym clothes, drenched in sweat, completely stuffing her face with the fattiest foods in the cafeteria with her bloated belly sticking out the bottom of her wet shirt. The leggings really were amazing... they let my belly expand to the fullest and they didn't put any pressure on it because they were so thin. Before I knew it, I couldn't make my shirt cover my flabby gut and I could hardly breath between hiccups. Part of me felt embarrassed at ruining all that hard work at the gym, but most of me felt completely satisfied and full.
I sat back holding my distended belly for a few minutes before hoisting my heavy body out of the cafeteria chair, grabbing a bag of chips for the road, and slowly waddling toward my dorm, burping and hiccuping the whole way. After taking my sweaty shirt off at my dorm, I spread myself out on the couch, laying on my side instead of my back because my stuffed gut was too heavy to let me breath comfortably. I slowly finished the bag of chips before falling asleep rubbing my full belly.
Later that night, I was rudely awoken by my roommate slamming the door and telling me to move my fat ass to my room. I promptly put a new shirt on (but stayed in those glorious leggings hehe) and marched back down to the cafeteria... feeling my sore muscles and thinking, "All the more reason I can indulge today!"
To this day, I have still only been to 24-hour-fitness once. Shhhh don't tell mommy.
(Authors note: inspired by real life experiences of a certain member of this site... you know who you are! thank you)
24 Hour Fatness
By Anonymous1111
(reposted by permission from Fantasyfeeder.com)
By Anonymous1111
(reposted by permission from Fantasyfeeder.com)
I've been big for quite a while now. I've always had a slow metabolism and in recent years, I guess I've really just let myself go. I enjoy my food and I don't like to watch what I eat. I don't see the point in it to be honest. I'm in near perfect health and men love my curves, so why curb my appetite?? That's not exactly how my mother sees it...
I'd always been chubby, but up until about 4 years ago, I'd had a serious obsession with going to the gym and watching what I ate to get that barbie doll figure that God obviously didn't intend for me to have. I'm not sure what spurred my revelation, but one day I just decided I was done with it. I started loving my body and stopped the ridiculous race to lose weight. Since then I've probably gained around 80 lbs and discovered this whole BBW/FA community. I've started to really enjoy the experience of eating as much as I want and liking the curvier figure that brings. Being full has almost become a sort of hobby for me. As anybody not familiar with this lifestyle would, my Mom started to worry...
Every time I went home, she'd make me weigh in and then give me speech after speech about the harms of weight gain. She recently came to visit me and surprise! bought me a 24-hour fitness membership as a "gift." I told her flat out that I have no intention of going there, but she insisted we go together the last day she was in town and she'd show me how "fun" it was. At 270 lbs, I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to be able to do many of the "fun" things she had in mind and I told her so, but she wasn't convinced. I hadn't gotten off the couch except to go out drinking with friends, walk to the car to get food, walk to the school cafeteria near my dorm, or walk to class in... well probably years. I knew I hadn't been to the gym since I left home and realized that life is better eating what I wanted.
She stuffed me into a XL T-shirt she'd brought from home for me and a pair of black spandex leggings. She'd even bought me running shoes. I looked ridiculous... not only could you obviously tell I never went to the gym, but I looked like an inflated soccer Mom. The sports bra she'd bought me was definitely too small and I could feel it chafing the fat roll below my breasts. Everything was jiggling in the thin leggings and tight shirt as my mother hurried me into her hybrid SUV to drive to the gym. Here it goes!--I thought as I prepared myself for a thoroughly embarrassing few hours.
Upon arriving at the gym, we put our things away and took seats on the stretching mat. My mother had made it very apparent that she was leading my workout and I had no choice on what we were doing. First was stretching... which didn't seem terrible to me.
Bending over trying to touch my toes was a little trying, but most of it wasn't too hard. Stretching my arms above my head made my shirt ride up and reveal some serious stretch marks and a big roll of fat under my belly button, but I wasn't too uncomfortable with that. My mom was clearly ashamed of my girth, but I couldn't let it get to me because I knew that the day was going to get much worse. As we sat down to try to do the butterfly stretch, I could feel the sweat moistening the space under my breasts on top of my belly. I couldn't believe I was sweating already... we were only stretching! Maybe I was more out of shape than I thought!
Next my mother handed me a medicine ball and sat behind me so our backs touched. Her tiny muscular back felt strange against my flabby wide one. She winced as she felt my back fat bulging out from under my tight sports bra touching her slim shoulder blades. We were supposed to pass the medicine ball to each other so it went in circles around us. Every time I turned, my belly shifted on my lap and my shirt rode up a little more. After a few quick turns, my bottom two fat rolls were bare on my lap jiggling as I heaved in and out. This was more tiring than it looked! My mom passed the ball so fast and I had to work hard to keep up, but I took my time passing the ball on my side. She was obviously frustrated, but I think she could feel my back dampening and my lungs heaving so she didn't push it. When we were done, she hopped up quickly as I leaned back on my hands and took a minute to catch my breath, forgetting to pull down my shirt to cover my exposed beer belly before she got a glimpse. Her eyes fixated on it immediately and a grimace spread across her face as she turned around and headed toward the scale.
I dutifully followed her and tried to guess how much I weighed. I couldn't see the numbers on my old-fashioned, non digital scale at home over my big gut and I was far too lazy to figure out a solution to this problem or buy a new scale, I had decided I didn't much care what the scale said some months ago. As my mother inched the marker on the manual scale farther and farther towards three hundred, I was getting a little uncomfortable. There goes 270... it can't be much farther, it's only been two months since 265... 280... something must be wrong with this scale.... 293?! How did that happen?? 23 pounds in just a little over 2 months??? I had been going out a lot with my new friends from work. I had been eating a little more than usual I guess at work. Working at Pizza Hut was a little more fattening than I thought I guess. Wow... almost 300 lbs... I never thought I'd get this big. I'd always figured that if I just ate what I wanted, at some point, I'd reach whatever weight I was supposed to be. I guess I was born to be obese.
I was torn between feelings of fear and feelings of... satisfaction My mom wasn't torn at all... she was disgusted. She said, "What do you have to say for yourself?" She was furious.
"I'm not an unhappy person Mom, I'm just fat... it's not the end of the world. We've talked about this a hundred times. The doctor says nothing is wrong with me, I'm just overweight."
She stormed back to the stretching mat and waited for me, fuming as I waddled over to her.
She got on her back on the mat and looked at me expectantly. I followed suit and hoped she wasn't suggesting what I thought she was suggesting... situps. I knew for a fact that there was no way I was going to be able to do a situp. Before I knew it, she was pumping away counting her situps out loud. Despite my misgivings, I made a concerted effort. I threw all my strength in trying to get my shoulders off the ground, but only succeeding in raising my head off the ground for a moment and flopping down heavily, exhaling loudly and feeling my fat move up and down toward my chin. I loved that feeling.
I know my mother saw my pathetic attempt at a crunch, but she did her best to ignore it.. still counting her own situps as if I was doing them with her. I continued trying my best just to appease her, but only succeeded in making my back sweatier and jiggling my belly around for everybody to see. I was feeling pretty exhausted already. All my mother had let me have for breakfast was a bowl of cereal and my stomach was screaming at me already.
Suddenly, she flipped over on her stomach and again shot me her expectant glare. I rolled over and slowly situated myself with one knee on the floor in pushup ready position. My skinny mother flew into quick pushups with audible counting. I took my knee off the ground to attempt my own pushups, but my weak arms quickly buckled and my heavy gut slapped the damp stretching mat noisily. I was shocked at how heavy my own body felt. I hadn't tried to do pushup in years. I grunted and squirmed trying to lift my pendulous midsection off the ground. It was no use. I put my knees down and resorted to girl pushups... my mother was struggling on her 25th normal pushup.
The girl pushups weren't so bad. They were difficult, but manageable. Every time I went down toward the mat, my big belly lightly rested on the mat, helping me support my weight. By the time my mother quit her pushups, I was struggling to do mine and was thankful for the rest. I prayed there was no more exercise, but she hopped up and marched over to the treadmills.
This was now turning into my worst nightmare. Not only was I starving and sweaty, but I was now going to have to jog?? There was no way. I dejectedly dragged myself over to the treadmill and got on the one next to my mother. The entire row of machines had trim moms twice my age running at speeds much faster than what I thought I could run. I was embarrassed to even get on the treadmill as it whined under my weight. This could be bad.
My mom started jogging at a 6.0 and I put in an ambitious 4.0. As the pace climbed toward 4, my legs struggled to get my body into a jog. My knees couldn't force my body to spring into the air... I was too heavy. It scared me a little bit, but why would anybody want to jog? It's practically torture. I lowered my pace to 3.0, but was still struggling a bit. I was sucking in air as fast as I could, but it was hard world trying to control all my jiggly body parts. I was very self-conscious at this point... I was pretty sure I was waddling and my belly and breasts were bouncing everywhere. I had to constantly pull the bottom of my T-shirt down as it rode up my swaying belly.
The sweat trickeld down the front of my belly and I could see my heather gray shirt absorbing it. The shirt clung to my skin and made me even more self-conscious. All I could think about was food. I was absolutely starving. I was heading straight to the cafeteria after this... no question about it. Mmm... juicy cheeseburgers, fries, milkshakes, donuts, pizza... my stomach felt like it was eating itself. I couldn't take it anymore... I pressed the emergency stop button on the treadmill and stood there wheezing while dripping sweat. As I looked at the stats of my workout, I'd only walked for six minutes and I'd burned under a hundred calories according to this stupid machine. That probably wasn't even the cereal I ate for breakfast.
I waddled over to the row of stationary bikes and plopped down on one... not planning on pedaling, but just resting after that monster of a speed walk. I felt nauseous I was so hungry. When my mother finally got off the treadmill, I gave her a painful puppy dog face, "Mommyyyy, could we please go home now? I've worked really hard, I swear I have. Look how sweaty I am. "
Her drill instructor facade faded momentarily. "I know sweetie just a few more things and we'll be done for the day, but I want you to come back every day and get rid of this big girl" she said as she poked her bony finger into my soft sweaty belly. After she turned around, i rolled my eyes and thought, "Yeahhhh right! Like I'm ever showing my fat face here again!"
She took me over to the thigh machine and had me sit down. My thighs naturally spread apart as my big belly settled in between them. I could sit with my legs together normally if I tried, but the back of the seat made me sit so forward that I couldn't get my belly on top of my thighs. My mother saw the problem and without a word, adjusted the seat back so I could lean back a little more, but I still had to grab the bottom of my damp paunch and lift it to get my legs between the levers of the machine. I kept hold of my belly while I did the thigh exercises so that it couldn't flop back between my legs, preventing me from closing them.
My mother seemed quite discouraged and after a few sets of thigh workouts, finally said we could leave. I was absolutely exhausted and I could hardly wait to get back to campus so I could get into that delicious cafeteria.
My mother spent the entire car ride back to my dorm explaining the virtues of a healthy diet and daily exercise to me. All of it went in one ear and out the other, but I acted like I was taking it all to heart. I was really just planning the gargantuan meal I was about to have in the cafeteria. We could both hear my stomach growling ravenously even over the air conditioner blasting. I loved the feel of the cold air on my sweaty belly and I wanted to get that sweaty shirt off, but it'd have to wait until after my meal. I was practically drooling out of anticipation by the time she dropped me off.
I gave her a hurried goodbye kiss as I practically leapt out of the car toward the cafeteria. She called after me as I waddled away, making me promise I would eat a salad for lunch. I walked as fast as I could toward the cafeteria on my exhausted legs. I was thankful for one thing... these leggings would really let me pig out
I piled my tray high with every kind of delectable treat you could think of. I could a bacon cheeseburger, curly fries, onion rings, two donuts, a milkshake, a slice of Hawaiian pizza, a calzone, and a piece of cheesecake. I wolfed it all down so fast that I hardly realized how strange I must look... a 293 pound girl in gym clothes, drenched in sweat, completely stuffing her face with the fattiest foods in the cafeteria with her bloated belly sticking out the bottom of her wet shirt. The leggings really were amazing... they let my belly expand to the fullest and they didn't put any pressure on it because they were so thin. Before I knew it, I couldn't make my shirt cover my flabby gut and I could hardly breath between hiccups. Part of me felt embarrassed at ruining all that hard work at the gym, but most of me felt completely satisfied and full.
I sat back holding my distended belly for a few minutes before hoisting my heavy body out of the cafeteria chair, grabbing a bag of chips for the road, and slowly waddling toward my dorm, burping and hiccuping the whole way. After taking my sweaty shirt off at my dorm, I spread myself out on the couch, laying on my side instead of my back because my stuffed gut was too heavy to let me breath comfortably. I slowly finished the bag of chips before falling asleep rubbing my full belly.
Later that night, I was rudely awoken by my roommate slamming the door and telling me to move my fat ass to my room. I promptly put a new shirt on (but stayed in those glorious leggings hehe) and marched back down to the cafeteria... feeling my sore muscles and thinking, "All the more reason I can indulge today!"
To this day, I have still only been to 24-hour-fitness once. Shhhh don't tell mommy.
