Back in the days of the "old boards" at Dimensions it was hard to find old articles, so I took to putting most of my longer thoughts on my own web page instead. I've decided to post them on the Dimensions boards this summer, where they are probably more useful. I call it my Summer Re-Run project. I've already put a couple of my stories on the story board, this is the first of my opinion pieces to be brought over. I've made a few minor edits
The Beatles asked:
"Will you still need me, Will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?"
Several years ago, while on a ski weekend with 'the guys,' I was riding up the chairlift with a friend, chatting. The hill had a few chalets right beside the slopes, with big second story decks. It was the sort of mild, sunny, glorious March day that lets you ditch the toque and scarf and goggles, unzip the neck of your jacket, and ski in sunglasses (and get a really good sunburn!). We were complaining about how we never had enough time to ski. Then my friend pointed to the deck of one of the chalets, and said. "That is where I want to be when I retire, sitting there and relaxing after a morning of skiing, with a beer in one hand and a joint THIS big in the other, with a couple of ski bunnies waiting to bring me refills."
That isn't quite my retirement fantasy, personally, but his point was a good one. When I reach 65, I hope I have the money, and the health and fitness, to ski all winter and to be on or near water all summer.
I realize that by then I may not be ready to ski double black diamond trails all day long, but there is no reasons I shouldn't be able to downhill ski, not to mention cross country ski, snow shoe, and maybe get in a bit of curling. I also hope that my wife will be sharing these activities with me.
What does all this have to do with the weight board? Well, at heart, I'm a feeder/feedee. My very first erotic fantasy involved the heaviest girls and boys in my grade six classes all getting together and seeing who became the fattest. I'm almost three times as old as I was back then, but my feelings haven't changed much, I still adore fat, and I'm still excited by weight gain. The thought of mutual feeding and admiration of our ever softer, rounder bodies has tremendous attraction for me.
BUT......
How far can it go? How long? Being fat doesn't automatically make you unhealthy, but there are limits on the human machine, and the bigger you are the more things you can't do. I'm still fairly young and strong, so I could probably gain a hundred pounds and still downhill ski, albeit more carefully.
But what about when I'm 64? I doubt I could be that weight then, and still take part in the activities I love. And that is just another hundred pounds. My desire will never be happy with any one weight, whatever weight I'm at, or my wife is at, I'll always be excited by the thought of gaining more, then still more.
Where would it end? At some point we simply wouldn't be able to gain any more, because the effort to move our mass around, and the difficulty in simply preparing food, would prevent us from eating more than was needed just to sustain our weight.
By that point we would have rather limited mobility, and as we aged, and our vigor reduced, that mobility would be even lessened. The weight we could barely get up the stairs at perhaps 35 would practically imprison us at 65, without even considering, say, 85.
Maybe I could care for myself at 400 pounds now, but what sort of nursing home care could I get at 85 and 400 pounds? Perhaps at that point you begin to hope that indeed the extra pounds will kill you young, I don't know.
What it comes down to for me is these two facts: at some point the gaining has to stop, and the ability to carry weight will decrease as we age. So if I will always want more, is wanting more at 200 pounds any worse than wanting more at 300 pounds? Certainly, the lower a weight I can accept, the more active and busy and exciting my retirement promises to be.
I certainly enjoy weight gain fantasy stories, but I can't help but wonder what happens after "...and they lived happily ever after." Of course, those are stories and fantasies, so I don't worry about it much. When I see discussions on this board of people who sound like they are aiming to live out some of those stories, however, I always wonder, what ever after are they hoping for?
This was originally written some years and twenty pounds ago. I think now that my boast that I could ski while weighing a hundred pounds more was foolish. But the general point remains: I think it is wise to stop gaining at the lowest weight that you realistically can. Realistically in what your body is happy with, and what you can accept emotionally/sexually
-Ed
The Beatles asked:
"Will you still need me, Will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?"
Several years ago, while on a ski weekend with 'the guys,' I was riding up the chairlift with a friend, chatting. The hill had a few chalets right beside the slopes, with big second story decks. It was the sort of mild, sunny, glorious March day that lets you ditch the toque and scarf and goggles, unzip the neck of your jacket, and ski in sunglasses (and get a really good sunburn!). We were complaining about how we never had enough time to ski. Then my friend pointed to the deck of one of the chalets, and said. "That is where I want to be when I retire, sitting there and relaxing after a morning of skiing, with a beer in one hand and a joint THIS big in the other, with a couple of ski bunnies waiting to bring me refills."
That isn't quite my retirement fantasy, personally, but his point was a good one. When I reach 65, I hope I have the money, and the health and fitness, to ski all winter and to be on or near water all summer.
I realize that by then I may not be ready to ski double black diamond trails all day long, but there is no reasons I shouldn't be able to downhill ski, not to mention cross country ski, snow shoe, and maybe get in a bit of curling. I also hope that my wife will be sharing these activities with me.
What does all this have to do with the weight board? Well, at heart, I'm a feeder/feedee. My very first erotic fantasy involved the heaviest girls and boys in my grade six classes all getting together and seeing who became the fattest. I'm almost three times as old as I was back then, but my feelings haven't changed much, I still adore fat, and I'm still excited by weight gain. The thought of mutual feeding and admiration of our ever softer, rounder bodies has tremendous attraction for me.
BUT......
How far can it go? How long? Being fat doesn't automatically make you unhealthy, but there are limits on the human machine, and the bigger you are the more things you can't do. I'm still fairly young and strong, so I could probably gain a hundred pounds and still downhill ski, albeit more carefully.
But what about when I'm 64? I doubt I could be that weight then, and still take part in the activities I love. And that is just another hundred pounds. My desire will never be happy with any one weight, whatever weight I'm at, or my wife is at, I'll always be excited by the thought of gaining more, then still more.
Where would it end? At some point we simply wouldn't be able to gain any more, because the effort to move our mass around, and the difficulty in simply preparing food, would prevent us from eating more than was needed just to sustain our weight.
By that point we would have rather limited mobility, and as we aged, and our vigor reduced, that mobility would be even lessened. The weight we could barely get up the stairs at perhaps 35 would practically imprison us at 65, without even considering, say, 85.
Maybe I could care for myself at 400 pounds now, but what sort of nursing home care could I get at 85 and 400 pounds? Perhaps at that point you begin to hope that indeed the extra pounds will kill you young, I don't know.
What it comes down to for me is these two facts: at some point the gaining has to stop, and the ability to carry weight will decrease as we age. So if I will always want more, is wanting more at 200 pounds any worse than wanting more at 300 pounds? Certainly, the lower a weight I can accept, the more active and busy and exciting my retirement promises to be.
I certainly enjoy weight gain fantasy stories, but I can't help but wonder what happens after "...and they lived happily ever after." Of course, those are stories and fantasies, so I don't worry about it much. When I see discussions on this board of people who sound like they are aiming to live out some of those stories, however, I always wonder, what ever after are they hoping for?
This was originally written some years and twenty pounds ago. I think now that my boast that I could ski while weighing a hundred pounds more was foolish. But the general point remains: I think it is wise to stop gaining at the lowest weight that you realistically can. Realistically in what your body is happy with, and what you can accept emotionally/sexually
-Ed
