~BBW, Eating, Revenge, ~~WG -- A condescending roommate discovers a different part of life.
(This journal, well-known and recalled in Weight Fiction circles, originally appeared in installments. Parts were feared to have been lost. We are happy, with permission, to have retrieved and reassembled it in its entirety for presentation here. - ed)
September 4th, 2004
Dear Diary,
Well, yesterday I moved into the dorm. I don’t think I’m going to like it here. I try to be open-minded, but it’s hard. Even as late as yesterday, I was optimistic things might work out, but now I’m having serious doubts.
The campus is beautiful and my room is spacious. In fact, it’s much larger than my room back home. At first, I was thrilled that I might have some privacy for a change. I figured after growing up with three sisters, having just one roommate would be a piece of cake--Boy, was I wrong. Little did I know I’d be sharing a room with a whole sorority house!
My roommate’s name is Sylvia and she’s a new pledge for Tri Alpha Beta. Apparently “rush week” was last week and even though I would NEVER want to be a part of such an elitist sham, I do feel left out. No fewer than twelve girls were in my room after I got back from today’s orientation and not one of them gave me the time of day. They were all crammed on Sylvia’s side listening to some God-awful boy band crappola. Of course, they were all giggling like 8th graders over how cute the singer is and how good the album was…God I hate “groupthink!” Sylvia did give me a casual “hey” as I walked through the door, but then went right back to her clique.
Allow me to elaborate a little bit on Sylvia. She’s every stereotype I’ve ever had about California girls wrapped in one perky-pukey package. She’s about 5’ 7”, 120 pounds, tan, platinum blonde…and vapid as hell. She is gorgeous though. To think, I was feeling pretty good about myself after losing five pounds before leaving home…Next to her I look like a pale whale. I know, I’m stupid to be so shallow, but it’s tough. In High School everyone knew the real me; I had four-years under my thirty-two inch belt to build a reputation NOT dependant on looks. Now I’ll be starting from square one (or square minus-one if I’m next to my roommate).
All the banners at orientation read: “Make a fresh start.” I don’t know if it’s worth the effort…
September 12th, 2004
Dear Diary,
I came home today to eleven messages on the answering machine; only one was for me (my mother). It’s bad enough that Sylvia has an entourage of bubble-headed bleach-blondes hanging around our room 24/7, but now—-one week into the school year--men are already salivating over her on the phone. I’m not usually the jealous type, but I guess being 1,000 miles from home with no friends and a bitchy roommate entitles me to a little envy.
Things are looking up academically; I enjoy my classes and my teachers are pretty cool. Why can’t I just take solace in that? Why am I letting “Ms. Goodbody” bother me? It’s not like she’s a horrible person; she actually can be nice. (She even invited me to sunbath with her and some of her sorority friends--though I have a sinking-suspicion I was merely invited to make her already perfect figure seem that much more perfect by contrast.) I think it’s just her whole “I’m so superior” attitude. Even though she doesn’t say anything, I catch her making disapproving glances at my “comfort first” wardrobe, or the gothic artwork on my side of the room, or--heaven forbid--when I eat something with more than five calories in it.
Of course, it doesn’t help that I’ve probably already put on about three of the five pounds I lost before coming here. (Damn greasy cafeteria food!) I had hoped to wait at least until the temperature dropped below 80 before breaking out the sweats, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that skinny little hussy--in her skin-tight jean shorts and tank-top--see my tummy bulge.
Maybe I need to start planting fudge on her side of the room. Ha! Ha!
Love,
Melissa
September 20th, 2004
Dear Diary,
Just when I think I’ve made a breakthrough with Sylvia, she makes me wonder why I even bother trying.
Last week, I made a conscientious effort to try and be friendly...and it wasn’t easy let me tell you! She rubs me the wrong way in just about every way: She’s superficial, two-faced, materialistic and conceited. All she did was shop, sunbath and bitch to me about her so-called friends. (The ones she was so nice to just a few minutes earlier.) Still, I figured we're going to be together for the next few months and it was at least worth SOME effort.
For a few days it was tolerable; she’s immensely popular (despite her seemingly transparent flaws) and hanging out with her at least let me meet some people. I was even hitting it off with a few of her less self-involved sorority sisters. I guess Sylvia didn’t like sharing the attention; however, because tonight at dinner--after I had just told a particularly funny fraternity joke that cracked-up the entire table--she turned to me as I ate my hamburger and fries and said, “Melissa dear, you really should be careful of the Freshman 15. You’ve already got a bit of a head start.”
I wanted to spit in that skinny little bitch’s salad!
Surprisingly, most of the girls at the table came to my defense, but my face was so flush with anger and embarrassment I didn’t stick around to hear. So here I sit--munching on chocolate-chip cookies and talking to you. Despite her nefarious intentions, Sylvia does have a point: I’d better take it easy...I don’t want to gain back what I lost and then some.
I think I’ll go for a run...I need to do some thinking anyway.
Love,
Melissa
September 28, 2004
Dear Diary,
It’s taken almost a month, but things are really starting to look up.
First things first: I got three A’s in a row on my first tests of the semester (English, Algebra and Psychology). They weren’t even that hard. Secondly, I have taken Sylvia’s advise (horror!) to “beware the Freshman 15” and for the last week I have been jogging regularly and eating better. Thirdly, and perhaps most exciting, I got a date! Ok, it was only to study, and Sylvia seems to get a call from a new guy every hour, but for me it was a major triumph. His name is Jason and he is CUTE!
Best of all, I detected the slightest hint of jealousy in Sylvia’s voice when I told her about it tonight. Apparently, he’s in her history class and--though she denies it--I think she has eyes for him. Ha! Ha! Did I mention how cute he was? Of course, Sylvia downplayed it and made a casual comment about how she already had two dates lined-up for that night. Normally I’d bite my tongue, but I was feeling a little bit cocky so I mentioned she might be better off studying! (She’s barely scraping by.) Needless to say, she didn’t like that too much and stormed off to the mall about thirty-minutes ago.
Between my good grades, my new exercise regime and my “date” with Jason, I suddenly feel empowered. I haven’t even let Sylvia bother me at all week (though she‘s tried). In fact, after thirty straight days it feels good to give her a taste of her own medicine.
Turnabout’s fair play, right?
Love,
Melissa
October 4, 2004
Dear Diary,
That BITCH!
I hate my roommate. If I wasn’t stuck with her until the end of the semester, I’d move out in a heartbeat.
She’s been trying to sabotage my diet. For the last week or so, little Miss Healthy has been stocking the fridge with all sorts of fattening goodies: soda, cookies, snack cakes, you name it. Of course, she continually parades around our dorm room looking like some hooker gone sorority, eating donut after donut while making obnoxious “Mmmm!” sounds...all the while showing off her invisible waist and narrow hips just to make sure I know what a cow I still look like next to her. How insecure can someone be?
Anyway, I’ve showed her; I haven’t taken any of the bait. (Well, maybe one Twinkie.) In fact, after running this morning I’m down to 150 pounds (two pounds less than when I got here!). Perfect timing too; I just got a call from Jason (the cute boy I studied with last week) and he asked me to a movie this weekend. He’s such a sweetie! I mentioned it to Sylvia a few minutes ago and her side of the room has been very quiet ever since. All I can hear is the constant crinkling of Ho Ho wrappers. (Talk about an appropriately named snack for her!)
Love,
Melissa
October 9, 2004
Dear Diary,
I’ve never had an emotional roller-coaster like last night...
Last night was my first official “date” with Jason. I was already nervous, but by the time he got to the room to pick me up, Sylvia had driven me way past neurotic. The entire time I was getting ready, she kept a running commentary: “You’re going to wear that?” “Don’t you have anything more slimming?” “Is Jason colorblind?” etc., etc. All the while, she munched incessantly on some giant, obnoxious, chocolate-chipped cookie that had my stomach growling like a pit-bull.
Oh, but it gets worse...When Jason finally gets to the room, she rushes to the door before I can answer it in her skin-tight, Daisy Duke shorts that only half-cover each cheek. “Hi Jason! C’mon in!” she coos (Ick! I can still hear her breathy voice echoing in my head!), before wiggling her way back to her side. Then, after his eyes are already bugged-out, she says, “My, my, it’s soooo hot in here” and takes off her shirt revealing nothing but a cleavage-packed sports bra! I’m sure no court would’ve convicted me had I strangled her right there.
To Jason’s credit, he did the best he could to ignore her and Sylvia finally plopped down on her bed and began eating chocolates from a large tin...Of course, she made a spectacle of it whenever Jason did glance over with lots of finger-licking and lip-smacking. I was afraid I’d have to pry Jason away with a crowbar, but he seemed as embarrassed by the display as I was and suggested we get going...Thank God!
Oops! It’s getting late. (I have a mid-term tomorrow morning.) I’ll have to finish the story later. (It gets MUCH better!)
Love,
Melissa
Dear Diary,
As promised, here’s the rest of my date night recap...
After my blood pressure finally returned to normal, I settled down and had a great time. Jason is a true gentlemen. We had a great dinner (I stuck to my diet! Woo hoo!) and then played a round of mini-golf. (I think he let me win.) We both had plans early the next morning (I had to meet a couple of Sylvia’s sorority sisters for an early-morning jog), so we called it a night fairly early. He walked me to the door, gave me a sweet hug and even kissed my hand!
I didn’t expect Sylvia to be home so early on a Friday night (It was only about 11 PM), but when I saw her TV was on my blood began to boil and I stormed over to her side to have it out with her. She was still in the seductive outfit she had been wearing hours earlier and fast asleep on her bed. I was about to wake her up when I noticed her side of the room: candy wrappers littered the foot of her bed and the tin that was once full of chocolates lay empty on her nightstand. A large pizza box with one remaining slice lay across Sylvia’s legs as she snored loudly; her open mouth stained red with tomato sauce. She had even unbuttoned her too-tight shorts to give her swollen belly some breathing room. As she breathed deeply, her tan little tummy rounded-out beyond the waistband and pushed the zipper further and further downwards (to the point I could see her white, thong underwear peaking out).
I couldn’t believe it: she had spent the entire Friday night in her room pigging-out by herself! I couldn’t help but chuckle as I thought about how it reminded me of how I used to be. I turned off her TV, tip-toed back to my side, and went to bed with a HUGE smile on my face.
Love,
Melissa
October 16th, 2004
Dear Diary,
It’s been a week since Jason and I first went out and we’re getting along great. At lunch, all the girls are full of questions: “What’s he like?”; “Is he really as nice as he seems?”; “Can he get me a friend?” are all questions that have been hurled my way the last few days. I have to admit that it’s been fun being the center of attention for a change.
It’s not sitting too well with Sylvia though; today at lunch she piped-in and said, “Frankly, I don’t know what you see in him. He’s kind of a nerd.”
Surprisingly, every girl at the table--even Sylvia’s most ardent devotees--came to my defense and made it clear she was all alone in her opinion. Sylvia grabbed her tray and stormed off, muttering something about us being “desperate” and “setting our sights low.” (She was hard to understand; her mouth was full of pie.)
After she left, Tonya (one of Sylvia’s sorority sisters) commented about how Sylvia was just jealous because no guys take her seriously and that it was obviously “her time of the month.”
“It’s been her time of the month all year,” another sister quipped. I couldn‘t help but smile as everyone piled on poor Sylvia, but I was positively giddy when Robin, supposedly one of Sylvia’s closest friends, watched as Sylvia sashayed her way through the cafeteria, turned to the rest of us and said:
“I think she’s put on weight.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Did Robin really say she thought Miss Perfect had put on weight? At that point, everyone at the table joined in with stories of Sylvia’s recent indulgences:
“She’s eaten nothing but burgers and fries all week,” said one girl;
“Every time I ask her to exercise with me she’s been making up some lame excuse,” gushed another;
“When we went sunbathing Saturday, her suit looked awfully snug,” Tonya smirked.
I was about to tell my story from the night of my first date with Jason, but Robin piped-in before I could. “Shhh! Here she comes...And look what she’s got!”
Next thing I knew, Sylvia was sitting back down with a giant bowl of ice cream complete with chocolate sprinkles and whipped-cream. We all nearly burst-out laughing.
“What?” Sylvia said, as a trickle of ice cream dribbled down the corner of her mouth.
I was THIS close to saying something like, “Beware the Freshman 15,” but I figured if she really was gaining weight why call attention to it? The other girls regained their composure and quickly changed the subject, but I couldn’t get my mind off the thought of Sylvia getting fatter and fatter with every bite of her calorie-laden treat.
Love,
Melissa
October 23, 2004
Dear Diary,
I have to admit that the last few days have been consumed with thoughts of Sylvia gaining weight. (I even had trouble concentrating on my mid-term exams!) Unfortunately, the day after Robin mentioned she thought Sylvia had put on weight a cold front moved through which had Ms. Skimpy Shorts dressed like Quinn the Eskimo. As a result, any images of a “fat” Sylvia have had to be mental.
Maybe its all wishful thinking anyway. I mean, two weeks ago Robin mentioned she was willing to “kill for her body.” It could have just been jealousy talking. Of course, you can’t ignore the fact that Sylvia’s turned into a major couch potato. I haven’t seen her exercise in weeks; she used to jog, gym and swim all in the same day, but lately it seems her only workout is walking downstairs to the vending machine, or to the campus Pizza Hut.
That’s another thing; until recently all she ate was salads and fruits…Now she’s done a total 180-degree turn: Burgers and fries for lunch and dinner; pizza for a late night snack and donuts in-between. (The junk food stash she originally tried to sabotage me with has dwindled and been replaced...Twice!) Fortunately, I’ve been able to avoid temptation. Knowing what I don’t eat will eventually make its way into Sylvia’s lithe little body has made it easier somehow!
All I know is, if I DID eat even half of what’s been in our fridge lately I’d be big as a house already. Of course, Sylvia’s West Coast hummingbird metabolism probably has most of it burned-off before it passes her pouty lips. Oh well, right now I’m more optimistic about her flunking-out than getting fat anyway; she rarely goes to class and I’ve yet to see her study.
Hope springs eternal!
Love,
Melissa
October 29, 2004
Dear Diary,
SYLVIA IS GETTING FAT!!!!
I don’t believe it...Sylvia, Ms. All-state cheerleader and health-nut, is getting FAT! Up until this morning, I couldn’t say I’d noticed a physical change. Despite Sylvia’s ravenous appetite and sloth-like behavior, her more demure Winter wardrobe had hidden any possible effects...But not anymore!
Most of the time I’m up and gone looong before Sylvia (she usually sleeps until about Noon), but for some reason she decided to go to class this morning. Anyway, I’m not used to that much noise (her hairdryer must be powered by Boeing) and immediately awoke to the sight of Sylvia primping in the mirror in just her bra and panties. I ALMOST just rolled over and buried my head under the pillow (I was still groggy evidently), but fortunately my eyes focused in time.
Now keep in mind, the first week of school--back when Sylvia actually attended class--the same thing would happen: I’d wake-up, take one look at her impossibly flat stomach, narrow hips, athletic thighs, gravity-defying ass and pert breasts, then cry myself back to sleep in a malaise of self-pity. But today was a completely different story.
The first thing I noticed was how pale she looked. She was still tan compared to me, but the bronzed, beach-blonde from orientation had dissolved with the arrival of fall. Her whitening flesh seemed to give her entire body a doughy look, but as my eyes adjusted I realized she wasn’t just whitening...she was widening!
Her stomach used to concave inwards beneath her ribs, but now pooched-outwards like someone had placed a bicycle pump into her bellybutton and pumped a half-dozen times. It was smooth and tightly-packed with a month’s worth of overindulgence, but it was more than just bloating; as she leaned from side-to-side and back-to-front, small folds of skin would bunch-up over the waistband of her too-tight panties making it clear that her “hummingbird-like metabolism” wasn’t quite keeping up with the constant barrage of French fires, pizza and ice cream.
Unfortunately, before I could give her a thorough inspection she threw on a bulky sweater that--much to my chagrin--instantly wiped-out any noticeable gain. (In fact, the only place she looked slightly bigger was her bust…Drat!). Despite this, I’ve been wearing a smile all day...One that got bigger when I heard the weather forecast for next week: sunny and unseasonably warm!
Love,
Melissa
PS: Jason just invited Sylvia and I to a Halloween party this weekend. I was initially pissed he invited Sylvia...until I found out it was a “Pimps and Hos” party. If she dresses like the “ho” she is, I might not be the only one to realize just how fat she’s getting...
October 31st, 2004
Dear Diary,
OK, so it's technically November 1st (it's 3 AM), but I just got back from Jason’s “Pimps-N-Hos” party and had to put some things to paper before I crashed. Wow, where to begin? The last few days have been such a whirlwind of activity, I think I'll have to make this a two-parter (at least!).
First things first, I found out the reason for Sylvia's sudden interest in class: She's flunking-out! I was straightening-up the room a couple nights ago getting ready for Jason to pick me up when I noticed--amidst the soda cans and candy wrappers--a letter on her desk on University letterhead. Normally, I'm not a busy-body, but I just had to see what it was about. Apparently, she's failing everything (and I mean EVERYTHING!). I guess even the most rudimentary classes (i.e. her "Practical Math 101" brain-buster) can be a challenge when you don't show. They were threatening her with "academic probation" which means NO extra-curricular activities. Just the thought of them taking away her sorority security blanket makes me smile.
It must have even dawned on Sylvia that "extra-curricular activities" meant more than making-out behind the football stadium; she's been going to class religiously all week. As I was preparing for my date, she even sat in bed reading her history book. I could tell it was difficult for her though; she kept glancing at the TV, chatting on the phone, and even visiting with li'l ol' me.
At one point, she asked me what I was wearing to Jason's party and I showed her the "Goth Hooker" ensemble I put together with my thigh-high boots and a black, leather bustier from Frederik's (I can fit in their upper-end sizes now!) that flatters my figure and gives me cleavage to rival Sylvia's...even with her plumped-up boobs!
Speaking of which, I was evil. She asked me what I did in order to help concentrate when I was studying and--even though she asked me with complete innocence and sincerity--I couldn't resist telling her that eating a snack or two always seemed to help. I went on to spout some nonsense about how working your jaw helped bring blood to the brain...which she bought hook, line and Snickers (several of them)!
We also had a giant bowl of Halloween candy for dormitory "trick-or-treaters" (it's kind of a campus ritual the night before Halloween) that was nearly gone by the time I came home to find Sylvia still sprawled-out in her bed “studying.” Candy wrappers outlined her prone body so perfectly it looked like she’d suffered a “death by chocolate.”
“Looks like we had quite a few trick-or-treaters,” I said, examining the empty bowl.
“Mmm, hmm,” Sylvia hummed through chipmunk-cheeks. “Tons of ‘em.” She turned a page of her book, leaving a brown smudge on the corner.
“So, what are YOU wearing to the party?”
Without averting her eyes from the text, she licked her chocolate-stained index finger and pointed towards the closet. Hanging on the door was a hot-pink tube top and black, spandex shorts.
“Wow, you’re going to look great in that.”
“I always do.”
I had to retreat to my side of the room to keep from laughing. I couldn’t decide which was funnier: that Sylvia assembled her “ho” outfit from her everyday attire, or that she felt she’d look so good in it after threatening the “freshman 15” in two months. (That’d be 70 plus pounds over the course of the school year. I bet even Sylvia could do the “practical math” on that one!)
It’s getting late. (I mean early!) I’ll have to give you the full update a little later. I’m meeting Robin for a jog in about 5 hours and can’t wait to talk to her about what happened at the party!
Love,
Melissa
November 1, 2004
Dear Diary,
OK, I've had a few hours sleep and my head's stopped spinning enough to tell more of last night's tale. It's a doozy!
Even though Sylvia and I got dressed for Jason’s party together, I concentrated FAR more on her appearance than my own. It was hard not to; she put on quite a show.
The first thing to get my attention were the "grunts" and "moans" emanating from her side of the room. Initially, I thought she had somehow snuck a guy in over the balcony, but when I glanced to her side she was bent-over--her bare butt fully mooning me--yanking and tugging her pink, spandex shorts inch by inch up her thighs. The further up they got, the more vocal she became, culminating in an orgasmic stream of groans as she stretched and pried the material (to a point of transparency) up and over her sizeable backside.
Finally over her plumpening posterior, Sylvia pulled them into position around her waist with a hop that sent a slight--but very noticeable--jiggle throughout her entire body and gently rattled the growing collection of shot glasses she keeps aligned like trophies along the window sill. (Another 20 pounds or so and it might have generated complaints from our first-floor neighbors!)
She then went to work on the tube-top. Now, back in my High School biology class we once watched a snake molt from its skin; it would writhe, wriggle and squirm until it was finally free from its too-tight cocoon...But I never thought I'd see the process in reverse until last night.
Sylvia got it over her head (as big as it is), but it stalled just above her breasts. Each time she yanked down on the top, it would mash her giant breasts towards the floor and force a healthy roll of belly fat up and over her shorts. The effect made her look downright matronly and, even though the roll would disappear somewhat between tugs and her breasts would regain some of their perkiness, it gave me an idea of what effect gravity could have given another few pounds to work with.
Eventually, she just mashed each breast flat against her chest with one hand, while yanking the top over it with the other. It was comical to watch and Sylvia was so preoccupied with her own struggles I probably could have just pulled-up a chair.
I kept waiting for some moment of realization when Sylvia would admit defeat, but it never happened. After thirty-minutes, she was flushed, sweaty and out of breath (it was the closest thing to a workout she'd had in weeks), but she was dressed. All I know is, if she showed as much determination with her studies as she did proving she could still fit into her "hot" clothes, she'd be on the Dean's List.
Anyway, after a little primping (or a lot in Sylvia's case), we were off to the party. Just before we got there, some of my old insecurities came flooding back. Even though Sylvia sported a bulging tummy and a fresh set of love-handles, she still looked pretty damn good and I knew I was still at least ten pounds heavier. Deep down, I knew I looked pretty good too--the outfit I wore really flattered my figure and I felt healthier and more confidant than I had in years--but a part of me couldn’t get past the fact that I’d be making my entrance next to the “great Sylvia Sweetwater” and would look like some dumpy tag-a-long.
As soon as we entered, however, I realized I needn’t have worried.
I'm off to the gym, more in a bit...
Love,
Melissa
Melissa's Journal
by Maverick
by Maverick
(This journal, well-known and recalled in Weight Fiction circles, originally appeared in installments. Parts were feared to have been lost. We are happy, with permission, to have retrieved and reassembled it in its entirety for presentation here. - ed)
September 4th, 2004
Dear Diary,
Well, yesterday I moved into the dorm. I don’t think I’m going to like it here. I try to be open-minded, but it’s hard. Even as late as yesterday, I was optimistic things might work out, but now I’m having serious doubts.
The campus is beautiful and my room is spacious. In fact, it’s much larger than my room back home. At first, I was thrilled that I might have some privacy for a change. I figured after growing up with three sisters, having just one roommate would be a piece of cake--Boy, was I wrong. Little did I know I’d be sharing a room with a whole sorority house!
My roommate’s name is Sylvia and she’s a new pledge for Tri Alpha Beta. Apparently “rush week” was last week and even though I would NEVER want to be a part of such an elitist sham, I do feel left out. No fewer than twelve girls were in my room after I got back from today’s orientation and not one of them gave me the time of day. They were all crammed on Sylvia’s side listening to some God-awful boy band crappola. Of course, they were all giggling like 8th graders over how cute the singer is and how good the album was…God I hate “groupthink!” Sylvia did give me a casual “hey” as I walked through the door, but then went right back to her clique.
Allow me to elaborate a little bit on Sylvia. She’s every stereotype I’ve ever had about California girls wrapped in one perky-pukey package. She’s about 5’ 7”, 120 pounds, tan, platinum blonde…and vapid as hell. She is gorgeous though. To think, I was feeling pretty good about myself after losing five pounds before leaving home…Next to her I look like a pale whale. I know, I’m stupid to be so shallow, but it’s tough. In High School everyone knew the real me; I had four-years under my thirty-two inch belt to build a reputation NOT dependant on looks. Now I’ll be starting from square one (or square minus-one if I’m next to my roommate).
All the banners at orientation read: “Make a fresh start.” I don’t know if it’s worth the effort…
September 12th, 2004
Dear Diary,
I came home today to eleven messages on the answering machine; only one was for me (my mother). It’s bad enough that Sylvia has an entourage of bubble-headed bleach-blondes hanging around our room 24/7, but now—-one week into the school year--men are already salivating over her on the phone. I’m not usually the jealous type, but I guess being 1,000 miles from home with no friends and a bitchy roommate entitles me to a little envy.
Things are looking up academically; I enjoy my classes and my teachers are pretty cool. Why can’t I just take solace in that? Why am I letting “Ms. Goodbody” bother me? It’s not like she’s a horrible person; she actually can be nice. (She even invited me to sunbath with her and some of her sorority friends--though I have a sinking-suspicion I was merely invited to make her already perfect figure seem that much more perfect by contrast.) I think it’s just her whole “I’m so superior” attitude. Even though she doesn’t say anything, I catch her making disapproving glances at my “comfort first” wardrobe, or the gothic artwork on my side of the room, or--heaven forbid--when I eat something with more than five calories in it.
Of course, it doesn’t help that I’ve probably already put on about three of the five pounds I lost before coming here. (Damn greasy cafeteria food!) I had hoped to wait at least until the temperature dropped below 80 before breaking out the sweats, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that skinny little hussy--in her skin-tight jean shorts and tank-top--see my tummy bulge.
Maybe I need to start planting fudge on her side of the room. Ha! Ha!
Love,
Melissa
September 20th, 2004
Dear Diary,
Just when I think I’ve made a breakthrough with Sylvia, she makes me wonder why I even bother trying.
Last week, I made a conscientious effort to try and be friendly...and it wasn’t easy let me tell you! She rubs me the wrong way in just about every way: She’s superficial, two-faced, materialistic and conceited. All she did was shop, sunbath and bitch to me about her so-called friends. (The ones she was so nice to just a few minutes earlier.) Still, I figured we're going to be together for the next few months and it was at least worth SOME effort.
For a few days it was tolerable; she’s immensely popular (despite her seemingly transparent flaws) and hanging out with her at least let me meet some people. I was even hitting it off with a few of her less self-involved sorority sisters. I guess Sylvia didn’t like sharing the attention; however, because tonight at dinner--after I had just told a particularly funny fraternity joke that cracked-up the entire table--she turned to me as I ate my hamburger and fries and said, “Melissa dear, you really should be careful of the Freshman 15. You’ve already got a bit of a head start.”
I wanted to spit in that skinny little bitch’s salad!
Surprisingly, most of the girls at the table came to my defense, but my face was so flush with anger and embarrassment I didn’t stick around to hear. So here I sit--munching on chocolate-chip cookies and talking to you. Despite her nefarious intentions, Sylvia does have a point: I’d better take it easy...I don’t want to gain back what I lost and then some.
I think I’ll go for a run...I need to do some thinking anyway.
Love,
Melissa
September 28, 2004
Dear Diary,
It’s taken almost a month, but things are really starting to look up.
First things first: I got three A’s in a row on my first tests of the semester (English, Algebra and Psychology). They weren’t even that hard. Secondly, I have taken Sylvia’s advise (horror!) to “beware the Freshman 15” and for the last week I have been jogging regularly and eating better. Thirdly, and perhaps most exciting, I got a date! Ok, it was only to study, and Sylvia seems to get a call from a new guy every hour, but for me it was a major triumph. His name is Jason and he is CUTE!
Best of all, I detected the slightest hint of jealousy in Sylvia’s voice when I told her about it tonight. Apparently, he’s in her history class and--though she denies it--I think she has eyes for him. Ha! Ha! Did I mention how cute he was? Of course, Sylvia downplayed it and made a casual comment about how she already had two dates lined-up for that night. Normally I’d bite my tongue, but I was feeling a little bit cocky so I mentioned she might be better off studying! (She’s barely scraping by.) Needless to say, she didn’t like that too much and stormed off to the mall about thirty-minutes ago.
Between my good grades, my new exercise regime and my “date” with Jason, I suddenly feel empowered. I haven’t even let Sylvia bother me at all week (though she‘s tried). In fact, after thirty straight days it feels good to give her a taste of her own medicine.
Turnabout’s fair play, right?
Love,
Melissa
October 4, 2004
Dear Diary,
That BITCH!
I hate my roommate. If I wasn’t stuck with her until the end of the semester, I’d move out in a heartbeat.
She’s been trying to sabotage my diet. For the last week or so, little Miss Healthy has been stocking the fridge with all sorts of fattening goodies: soda, cookies, snack cakes, you name it. Of course, she continually parades around our dorm room looking like some hooker gone sorority, eating donut after donut while making obnoxious “Mmmm!” sounds...all the while showing off her invisible waist and narrow hips just to make sure I know what a cow I still look like next to her. How insecure can someone be?
Anyway, I’ve showed her; I haven’t taken any of the bait. (Well, maybe one Twinkie.) In fact, after running this morning I’m down to 150 pounds (two pounds less than when I got here!). Perfect timing too; I just got a call from Jason (the cute boy I studied with last week) and he asked me to a movie this weekend. He’s such a sweetie! I mentioned it to Sylvia a few minutes ago and her side of the room has been very quiet ever since. All I can hear is the constant crinkling of Ho Ho wrappers. (Talk about an appropriately named snack for her!)
Love,
Melissa
October 9, 2004
Dear Diary,
I’ve never had an emotional roller-coaster like last night...
Last night was my first official “date” with Jason. I was already nervous, but by the time he got to the room to pick me up, Sylvia had driven me way past neurotic. The entire time I was getting ready, she kept a running commentary: “You’re going to wear that?” “Don’t you have anything more slimming?” “Is Jason colorblind?” etc., etc. All the while, she munched incessantly on some giant, obnoxious, chocolate-chipped cookie that had my stomach growling like a pit-bull.
Oh, but it gets worse...When Jason finally gets to the room, she rushes to the door before I can answer it in her skin-tight, Daisy Duke shorts that only half-cover each cheek. “Hi Jason! C’mon in!” she coos (Ick! I can still hear her breathy voice echoing in my head!), before wiggling her way back to her side. Then, after his eyes are already bugged-out, she says, “My, my, it’s soooo hot in here” and takes off her shirt revealing nothing but a cleavage-packed sports bra! I’m sure no court would’ve convicted me had I strangled her right there.
To Jason’s credit, he did the best he could to ignore her and Sylvia finally plopped down on her bed and began eating chocolates from a large tin...Of course, she made a spectacle of it whenever Jason did glance over with lots of finger-licking and lip-smacking. I was afraid I’d have to pry Jason away with a crowbar, but he seemed as embarrassed by the display as I was and suggested we get going...Thank God!
Oops! It’s getting late. (I have a mid-term tomorrow morning.) I’ll have to finish the story later. (It gets MUCH better!)
Love,
Melissa
Dear Diary,
As promised, here’s the rest of my date night recap...
After my blood pressure finally returned to normal, I settled down and had a great time. Jason is a true gentlemen. We had a great dinner (I stuck to my diet! Woo hoo!) and then played a round of mini-golf. (I think he let me win.) We both had plans early the next morning (I had to meet a couple of Sylvia’s sorority sisters for an early-morning jog), so we called it a night fairly early. He walked me to the door, gave me a sweet hug and even kissed my hand!
I didn’t expect Sylvia to be home so early on a Friday night (It was only about 11 PM), but when I saw her TV was on my blood began to boil and I stormed over to her side to have it out with her. She was still in the seductive outfit she had been wearing hours earlier and fast asleep on her bed. I was about to wake her up when I noticed her side of the room: candy wrappers littered the foot of her bed and the tin that was once full of chocolates lay empty on her nightstand. A large pizza box with one remaining slice lay across Sylvia’s legs as she snored loudly; her open mouth stained red with tomato sauce. She had even unbuttoned her too-tight shorts to give her swollen belly some breathing room. As she breathed deeply, her tan little tummy rounded-out beyond the waistband and pushed the zipper further and further downwards (to the point I could see her white, thong underwear peaking out).
I couldn’t believe it: she had spent the entire Friday night in her room pigging-out by herself! I couldn’t help but chuckle as I thought about how it reminded me of how I used to be. I turned off her TV, tip-toed back to my side, and went to bed with a HUGE smile on my face.
Love,
Melissa
October 16th, 2004
Dear Diary,
It’s been a week since Jason and I first went out and we’re getting along great. At lunch, all the girls are full of questions: “What’s he like?”; “Is he really as nice as he seems?”; “Can he get me a friend?” are all questions that have been hurled my way the last few days. I have to admit that it’s been fun being the center of attention for a change.
It’s not sitting too well with Sylvia though; today at lunch she piped-in and said, “Frankly, I don’t know what you see in him. He’s kind of a nerd.”
Surprisingly, every girl at the table--even Sylvia’s most ardent devotees--came to my defense and made it clear she was all alone in her opinion. Sylvia grabbed her tray and stormed off, muttering something about us being “desperate” and “setting our sights low.” (She was hard to understand; her mouth was full of pie.)
After she left, Tonya (one of Sylvia’s sorority sisters) commented about how Sylvia was just jealous because no guys take her seriously and that it was obviously “her time of the month.”
“It’s been her time of the month all year,” another sister quipped. I couldn‘t help but smile as everyone piled on poor Sylvia, but I was positively giddy when Robin, supposedly one of Sylvia’s closest friends, watched as Sylvia sashayed her way through the cafeteria, turned to the rest of us and said:
“I think she’s put on weight.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Did Robin really say she thought Miss Perfect had put on weight? At that point, everyone at the table joined in with stories of Sylvia’s recent indulgences:
“She’s eaten nothing but burgers and fries all week,” said one girl;
“Every time I ask her to exercise with me she’s been making up some lame excuse,” gushed another;
“When we went sunbathing Saturday, her suit looked awfully snug,” Tonya smirked.
I was about to tell my story from the night of my first date with Jason, but Robin piped-in before I could. “Shhh! Here she comes...And look what she’s got!”
Next thing I knew, Sylvia was sitting back down with a giant bowl of ice cream complete with chocolate sprinkles and whipped-cream. We all nearly burst-out laughing.
“What?” Sylvia said, as a trickle of ice cream dribbled down the corner of her mouth.
I was THIS close to saying something like, “Beware the Freshman 15,” but I figured if she really was gaining weight why call attention to it? The other girls regained their composure and quickly changed the subject, but I couldn’t get my mind off the thought of Sylvia getting fatter and fatter with every bite of her calorie-laden treat.
Love,
Melissa
October 23, 2004
Dear Diary,
I have to admit that the last few days have been consumed with thoughts of Sylvia gaining weight. (I even had trouble concentrating on my mid-term exams!) Unfortunately, the day after Robin mentioned she thought Sylvia had put on weight a cold front moved through which had Ms. Skimpy Shorts dressed like Quinn the Eskimo. As a result, any images of a “fat” Sylvia have had to be mental.
Maybe its all wishful thinking anyway. I mean, two weeks ago Robin mentioned she was willing to “kill for her body.” It could have just been jealousy talking. Of course, you can’t ignore the fact that Sylvia’s turned into a major couch potato. I haven’t seen her exercise in weeks; she used to jog, gym and swim all in the same day, but lately it seems her only workout is walking downstairs to the vending machine, or to the campus Pizza Hut.
That’s another thing; until recently all she ate was salads and fruits…Now she’s done a total 180-degree turn: Burgers and fries for lunch and dinner; pizza for a late night snack and donuts in-between. (The junk food stash she originally tried to sabotage me with has dwindled and been replaced...Twice!) Fortunately, I’ve been able to avoid temptation. Knowing what I don’t eat will eventually make its way into Sylvia’s lithe little body has made it easier somehow!
All I know is, if I DID eat even half of what’s been in our fridge lately I’d be big as a house already. Of course, Sylvia’s West Coast hummingbird metabolism probably has most of it burned-off before it passes her pouty lips. Oh well, right now I’m more optimistic about her flunking-out than getting fat anyway; she rarely goes to class and I’ve yet to see her study.
Hope springs eternal!
Love,
Melissa
October 29, 2004
Dear Diary,
SYLVIA IS GETTING FAT!!!!
I don’t believe it...Sylvia, Ms. All-state cheerleader and health-nut, is getting FAT! Up until this morning, I couldn’t say I’d noticed a physical change. Despite Sylvia’s ravenous appetite and sloth-like behavior, her more demure Winter wardrobe had hidden any possible effects...But not anymore!
Most of the time I’m up and gone looong before Sylvia (she usually sleeps until about Noon), but for some reason she decided to go to class this morning. Anyway, I’m not used to that much noise (her hairdryer must be powered by Boeing) and immediately awoke to the sight of Sylvia primping in the mirror in just her bra and panties. I ALMOST just rolled over and buried my head under the pillow (I was still groggy evidently), but fortunately my eyes focused in time.
Now keep in mind, the first week of school--back when Sylvia actually attended class--the same thing would happen: I’d wake-up, take one look at her impossibly flat stomach, narrow hips, athletic thighs, gravity-defying ass and pert breasts, then cry myself back to sleep in a malaise of self-pity. But today was a completely different story.
The first thing I noticed was how pale she looked. She was still tan compared to me, but the bronzed, beach-blonde from orientation had dissolved with the arrival of fall. Her whitening flesh seemed to give her entire body a doughy look, but as my eyes adjusted I realized she wasn’t just whitening...she was widening!
Her stomach used to concave inwards beneath her ribs, but now pooched-outwards like someone had placed a bicycle pump into her bellybutton and pumped a half-dozen times. It was smooth and tightly-packed with a month’s worth of overindulgence, but it was more than just bloating; as she leaned from side-to-side and back-to-front, small folds of skin would bunch-up over the waistband of her too-tight panties making it clear that her “hummingbird-like metabolism” wasn’t quite keeping up with the constant barrage of French fires, pizza and ice cream.
Unfortunately, before I could give her a thorough inspection she threw on a bulky sweater that--much to my chagrin--instantly wiped-out any noticeable gain. (In fact, the only place she looked slightly bigger was her bust…Drat!). Despite this, I’ve been wearing a smile all day...One that got bigger when I heard the weather forecast for next week: sunny and unseasonably warm!
Love,
Melissa
PS: Jason just invited Sylvia and I to a Halloween party this weekend. I was initially pissed he invited Sylvia...until I found out it was a “Pimps and Hos” party. If she dresses like the “ho” she is, I might not be the only one to realize just how fat she’s getting...
October 31st, 2004
Dear Diary,
OK, so it's technically November 1st (it's 3 AM), but I just got back from Jason’s “Pimps-N-Hos” party and had to put some things to paper before I crashed. Wow, where to begin? The last few days have been such a whirlwind of activity, I think I'll have to make this a two-parter (at least!).
First things first, I found out the reason for Sylvia's sudden interest in class: She's flunking-out! I was straightening-up the room a couple nights ago getting ready for Jason to pick me up when I noticed--amidst the soda cans and candy wrappers--a letter on her desk on University letterhead. Normally, I'm not a busy-body, but I just had to see what it was about. Apparently, she's failing everything (and I mean EVERYTHING!). I guess even the most rudimentary classes (i.e. her "Practical Math 101" brain-buster) can be a challenge when you don't show. They were threatening her with "academic probation" which means NO extra-curricular activities. Just the thought of them taking away her sorority security blanket makes me smile.
It must have even dawned on Sylvia that "extra-curricular activities" meant more than making-out behind the football stadium; she's been going to class religiously all week. As I was preparing for my date, she even sat in bed reading her history book. I could tell it was difficult for her though; she kept glancing at the TV, chatting on the phone, and even visiting with li'l ol' me.
At one point, she asked me what I was wearing to Jason's party and I showed her the "Goth Hooker" ensemble I put together with my thigh-high boots and a black, leather bustier from Frederik's (I can fit in their upper-end sizes now!) that flatters my figure and gives me cleavage to rival Sylvia's...even with her plumped-up boobs!
Speaking of which, I was evil. She asked me what I did in order to help concentrate when I was studying and--even though she asked me with complete innocence and sincerity--I couldn't resist telling her that eating a snack or two always seemed to help. I went on to spout some nonsense about how working your jaw helped bring blood to the brain...which she bought hook, line and Snickers (several of them)!
We also had a giant bowl of Halloween candy for dormitory "trick-or-treaters" (it's kind of a campus ritual the night before Halloween) that was nearly gone by the time I came home to find Sylvia still sprawled-out in her bed “studying.” Candy wrappers outlined her prone body so perfectly it looked like she’d suffered a “death by chocolate.”
“Looks like we had quite a few trick-or-treaters,” I said, examining the empty bowl.
“Mmm, hmm,” Sylvia hummed through chipmunk-cheeks. “Tons of ‘em.” She turned a page of her book, leaving a brown smudge on the corner.
“So, what are YOU wearing to the party?”
Without averting her eyes from the text, she licked her chocolate-stained index finger and pointed towards the closet. Hanging on the door was a hot-pink tube top and black, spandex shorts.
“Wow, you’re going to look great in that.”
“I always do.”
I had to retreat to my side of the room to keep from laughing. I couldn’t decide which was funnier: that Sylvia assembled her “ho” outfit from her everyday attire, or that she felt she’d look so good in it after threatening the “freshman 15” in two months. (That’d be 70 plus pounds over the course of the school year. I bet even Sylvia could do the “practical math” on that one!)
It’s getting late. (I mean early!) I’ll have to give you the full update a little later. I’m meeting Robin for a jog in about 5 hours and can’t wait to talk to her about what happened at the party!
Love,
Melissa
November 1, 2004
Dear Diary,
OK, I've had a few hours sleep and my head's stopped spinning enough to tell more of last night's tale. It's a doozy!
Even though Sylvia and I got dressed for Jason’s party together, I concentrated FAR more on her appearance than my own. It was hard not to; she put on quite a show.
The first thing to get my attention were the "grunts" and "moans" emanating from her side of the room. Initially, I thought she had somehow snuck a guy in over the balcony, but when I glanced to her side she was bent-over--her bare butt fully mooning me--yanking and tugging her pink, spandex shorts inch by inch up her thighs. The further up they got, the more vocal she became, culminating in an orgasmic stream of groans as she stretched and pried the material (to a point of transparency) up and over her sizeable backside.
Finally over her plumpening posterior, Sylvia pulled them into position around her waist with a hop that sent a slight--but very noticeable--jiggle throughout her entire body and gently rattled the growing collection of shot glasses she keeps aligned like trophies along the window sill. (Another 20 pounds or so and it might have generated complaints from our first-floor neighbors!)
She then went to work on the tube-top. Now, back in my High School biology class we once watched a snake molt from its skin; it would writhe, wriggle and squirm until it was finally free from its too-tight cocoon...But I never thought I'd see the process in reverse until last night.
Sylvia got it over her head (as big as it is), but it stalled just above her breasts. Each time she yanked down on the top, it would mash her giant breasts towards the floor and force a healthy roll of belly fat up and over her shorts. The effect made her look downright matronly and, even though the roll would disappear somewhat between tugs and her breasts would regain some of their perkiness, it gave me an idea of what effect gravity could have given another few pounds to work with.
Eventually, she just mashed each breast flat against her chest with one hand, while yanking the top over it with the other. It was comical to watch and Sylvia was so preoccupied with her own struggles I probably could have just pulled-up a chair.
I kept waiting for some moment of realization when Sylvia would admit defeat, but it never happened. After thirty-minutes, she was flushed, sweaty and out of breath (it was the closest thing to a workout she'd had in weeks), but she was dressed. All I know is, if she showed as much determination with her studies as she did proving she could still fit into her "hot" clothes, she'd be on the Dean's List.
Anyway, after a little primping (or a lot in Sylvia's case), we were off to the party. Just before we got there, some of my old insecurities came flooding back. Even though Sylvia sported a bulging tummy and a fresh set of love-handles, she still looked pretty damn good and I knew I was still at least ten pounds heavier. Deep down, I knew I looked pretty good too--the outfit I wore really flattered my figure and I felt healthier and more confidant than I had in years--but a part of me couldn’t get past the fact that I’d be making my entrance next to the “great Sylvia Sweetwater” and would look like some dumpy tag-a-long.
As soon as we entered, however, I realized I needn’t have worried.
I'm off to the gym, more in a bit...
Love,
Melissa
