~BBW, Stuffing, ~MWG - one graduate decides that life in the fatlane is her innermost desire
Our daughter was getting chubby. Since she was twelve years old she carried a few pounds more on her hips than her classmates - but she was far away from being fat. But now, 18 and graduating the next year, it became more and more obvious that her chubby face wouldn’t just be just a carryover from puberty, but stay for longer time. And in the last few months approaching the summer break she had packed on some more pounds - time to do something against a future obesity, so my wife and I thought.
So we decided to sent Julie in a summer camp with her swim team. She was doing swimming since she was six years old, but she has never been on a summer camp. Her trainer promised that all kids would have to do a lot of exercise, so we thought it would be good for her figure. We didn’t want to put her on a diet or into a “fat camp” to lose weight, because we didn’t feel good about it.
“Dieting isn’t healthy and just makes people feel like insecure failures”, my wife said, and I believed that she was right.
So we brought Julie on a bright and warm summer day to the bus which would carry she and 45 other girls and boys in her age to the camp 400 miles away. After exactly six weeks we would see her again. We said quickly “bye”, because she didn’t want the cute looking boys to meet her “old fashioned” parents.
"Okay. See you, bye, Dad, bye, Mom."
We received exactly three postcard from her in these six weeks. And two phone calls. I had expected more, but - we both knew about the interests of Julie, and writing postcards to her parents wasn’t one of them. She wrote very nice, the first card came after the first week, she told us that everything was okay and that she had found nice friends.
The second postcard arrived after four weeks. It was still nice for her, but she had problems with her clothes. What could that be? Trousers ripped? Shrunk in washing machine? Lost? Stolen? But she said she was o.k.
On the telephone she didn’t say much. Just “I’m fine, Dad, don’t worry, everything’s nice here.”
Could mean anything, but I didn’t worry.
We got the last postcard three days before the end of the summer camp. She said, she was looking forward to come home and that we shouldn’t wonder if her appearance had changed somehow. New hair cut? New hair color? A tattoo, made by her best friend? We were a little in sorrow, but we still had trust in our daughter. She wouldn’t do anything bad. Would she?
The day of her arrival was even hotter than the days before. The bus arrived two hours late because the engine of the bus was getting too hot from the high temperatures outside. When the bus finally arrived, 45 sweating children were falling out of it, some of them only wearing their swimwear.
“Mom, it’s been sooo hot inside! I’m so exhausted!” one boy shouted to his parents. Where was our daughter? We couldn’t find her in this crowd of kids and parents.
“Hi Mom, hi Dad!” The voice sounded familiar, but I didn’t see anyone known in my view.
“Dad, Mom, it’s me! I’m back!” And - right - this was - our daughter! I nearly hadn’t recognized her, because - she was literally bursting at the seams. She must have gained thirty pounds or more. Gee! Martha and I looked with astonishment to the strapping girl in front of us.
“Julie! Is it you, really?”
“Who else, Mom?”
“You look somehow - different, dear...”
“That’s just the little weight I’ve gained. No thing to worry about, Mom.”
She took her bag and started to go to our car. Martha and I were somehow stunned and couldn’t believe what we were seeing. ‘A little weight’ was the mother of all understatements! She had gotten huge! The belly she was carrying now had nothing in common with the little tummy she used to have. She wore her pink t-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it. This t-shirt had been baggy when she departed. Now it was so tight that it showed every roll of fat she had developed in this crazy summer camp.
What had happened? What had happened? Martha and I were speechless looking at our daughter waddling to our car, her thighs rubbing against each other and her bottom jiggling and wiggling with every step she made. What had happened?
Back at home Julie drank a whole bottle of Coke.
“I’m so thirsty, and I’m so used to this stuff”, she said with a kind of excuse. “And do you have something to eat? I’m so hungry, I haven’t eaten since morning.”
“Nothing, dear? It’s already 8:00 p.m., you must be really hungry! I’ll see what we have in our fridge.”
Martha went into the kitchen. I started some sort of investigation how my little chubette gained so much weight.
“So you didn’t eat since morning?
“Uhm - nearly, Dad. I only had a small portion of fries and a burger at the service station. Virtually nothing, you see, Dad. Okay, and Suzy had some cake which we ate during the drive.”
“No chocolate, no sweets?”
“Uhm - nearly not. Okay, Suzy and I had together one bar. You know, we won this bar at a competition in our camp. It was the largest chocolate bar I’ve ever seen. I think it weighed more than 20 ounces! “
“So each of you two has eaten 10 ounces of chocolate. Right?”
“Right, Dad... But it was our prize from the competition, so we were allowed to eat it!”
“What kind of competition has it been, dear?”
“Uhm... you see... it was no official competition... nothing to do with our trainer...”
“What kind of competition?”
“Uhm... ‘twas an eating competition”, she muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Kind of eating competition, Dad!”
“And what did you eat and who was competing?”
“I’ll tell you the whole story. Suzy and I became friends, because we were the only girls who were a little chubby. We got into the same room, and Sandy and Melissa were our roommates. Both thin as a rail. And they were disgusting. They were teasing us all the time because of our plump figures. And they bet that we never would beat them in the swimming competitions. Which was true. So we made another bet - that they would never beat us in a marshmallow eating competition. Which was also true. And the huge chocolate bar was the prize they had to give us.”
“And did you also swim during all the six weeks or did you only eat marshmallows?”
“In the beginning I tried to cope with the training schedule. But it was hard, too hard. In the second week I stopped the training and apologized myself to the trainer because of an aching ankle or aching muscles or a special sort of cold which wasn’t really showing but really bad in my body and so on. When the others were doing their training I was sitting in our room and reading and nibbling chocolate and potatoe chips. There was a little shop on the camp ground which was offering all kinds of sweets and chips. Really great.”
“So you stuffed yourself with chocolate when your roommates were doing their training?”
“No, not stuffing, Dad, just nibbling. I was stuffing myself at the regular meals. The meals were so good and the portions were so large that you couldn’t do anything else than stuff yourself. I think the cook must have been earlier employed at Pizza Hut, MacDonalds or Burgerking. Every second day we had pizza, large pieces with a lot of cheese. The other days they offered either hamburger or fries. Or both together. It was so good that I always took seconds or even thirds. Believe me, after lunch I was always stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey!”
Martha came back from the kitchen. “I’ve made you some fries, dear, and there’s another bottle of Coke, if you like.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Martha, our little daughter has stuffed herself with pizza, fries, burgers and chocolate the whole six weeks. I don’t think we should support her fattening eating habits now. Please don’t give her fries and coke.”
“Oh pleeeaaase, Dad! Don’t be so cruel!” Julie made her little-girl-face, which was usually successful in getting from Daddy what she wanted.
“Mike, the fries are ready now. Should I throw them away?”
Martha couldn’t understand me and my concerns.
Okay, I had to understand that there was no chance for a diet yet. Julie devoured a huge portion of fries with a lot of ketchup in front of my eyes. Must have been more than 1000 calories. Additional to the 10 ounces of chocolate and the rest of the fattening food she already had this day. Unbelievable. And Martha apparently didn’t want to acknowledge how fat her daughter had gotten.
“Mike, I don’t know why we should put Julie on a diet. Yes, she has gained some weight, but she will soon have a growth spurt and the baby fat will disappear. Believe me.”
“If a growth spurt could help, she would be 10 feet tall. Look how fat she has become!”
We could watch Julie from the kitchen window how she mowed the lawn. I had given her this task so that she wouldn’t sit the whole day in front of the tv while eating chocolate. She wore her old bermuda shorts who were rather tight now. We could see how much fat she carried on her thighs, her hips, her bottom and her belly. Even her upper arms were now soft and fat.
“Look, she’s waddling!” I said to Martha. “She can’t move her legs without rubbing against each other.”
“Yes, she’s carrying a few extra pounds. She will lose them soon. Just wait until she’s going back to her old eating habits, then her weight will drop like mad.”
I disagreed, but didn’t say anything. We would see. Perhaps my wife was right...
* * *
But she wasn’t. The old ating habits never returned. Four weeks later she hadn’t not only lost one pound but seemed to have gained some more. It was no wonder - if she wasn’t in school or wasn’t sleeping, she was sitting in her room and watching TV. And was always nibbling some chocolate or was eating from a half-gallon icecream-box.
We hadn’t purchased her new clothes because we felt she should lose her weight and shouldn’t get used to it. But now a limit was reached - I could see her t-shirt ending above her love handles, her pot-belly protruding over her waistband and her shorts cutting into her fat thighs. Everybody could see she had gained weight, and those tight clothes were beginning to look ridiculous on her.
Okay - new clothes were allowed, but she had to agree to weigh herself daily and fill in the results in some sort of diary. Her first weigh-in took place on a friday evening. We watched her stepping onto the scale, bursting even out of her underwear. She had to bend forward to see the numbers at her feet.
“163”, Julie said. “That’s less than I expected.”
“That’s exactly 53 pounds more than you should weigh, Julie. 110 pounds are recommended for your age and height.”
“But I don’t think I look too bad for my weight. Could be worse.”
She’s trying to be optimistic and to make the best of the situation, I thought.
“Sure, Julie, you could weigh 200 pounds. That would be worse. But I think more than 160 pounds are bad already. Think of your height.”
Julie was only 5’5” tall, so the pounds were really showing.
“It’s okay, Dad. What do I have to do to fit again into your image of a well-behaving and good-looking daughter?”
“Cut back on your eating, especially on chocolate, chips, ice-cream and coke. And you should start to move again. You could do some jogging...”
“I don’t run, Dad. I’m always exhausted after running even short distances. It isn’t my kind of sport, Dad.”
“What about improving your swimming results? Doing more training?”
“Swimming has gotten so tiring, Dad. I’m always the last one in competitions. Mr. Jackson, our trainer, has told me he didn’t want me to start neither for the short nor for the long distance competitions next month.”
“Hm. You could go to school by bicycle.”
“Dad!!! Five miles to and five miles back, every day? Do you want to kill me?”
This wouldn’t become easy, I thought. Tough discussion. I got a last idea how I could get our little chubette to move her body.
“I’ve made a decision. Your mother won’t buy sweets and coke for you. If you want to eat sweets, you have to go to the supermarket and buy them with your own money.”
“Okay, Dad.”
Surprisingly quickly she agreed. I was sure it would be too much effort for her to walk to the supermarket (which was about half a mile away), buy her food from her own money and then walk back half a mile. But I was wrong. From now every day after she came back from school, she went to the supermarket and bought tons of chocolate, chips and even large bottles of coke, her favourite drink. She stopped eating lunch ‘because of her diet’ - and went directly to her room when she came back with bags of chocolate and chips.
“I’m doing my homework”, she told her mother when she asked what she was going to do. But it was obvious that she was sitting in front of her TV and eating one chocolate bar after the other. I didn’t want to watch over her, but one day I looked in her paper basket and found the packagings of six chocolate bars! And I had emptied her paper basket the day before. So we could be sure that our daughter was stuffing herself with chocolate - which was just the opposite of what we wanted her to do. But if she was gaining weight it would show at the next weigh-in.
This took place on Friday again, one week after the first one. To me she looked heavier now than last week. But perhaps her clothes were just tighter than last week. But her weight was - 167 pounds! A gain of four pounds during one week!
“Julie, could you please explain this weight gain to your parents.”
“Uhm... ahh... seems I’ve gained a little.”
“That’s just what the scale says. What do YOU say?”
“Uhm... perhaps... perhaps I should cut down on breakfast.”
“You’re eating cereals for breakfast with low-fat milk. That doesn’t seem to have much calories.”
“Uhm... I think dinner is the most fattening stuff.”
“Your mother don’t cook with much fat. And you don’t eat much at dinner.”
“Uhm...”
“Okay, I’ll tell you: too much chocolate, too much chips, too much coke. All the stuff you’ve been buying has made you gain weight.”
“I don’t think this was so much to make me gain four pounds.”
“I couldn’t care less about what you think about your weight gain. From now you’ll stop eating chocolate, chips and all the other fattening food. Your mom will make you a low-fat breakfast, a low-fat lunch and a low-fat dinner, and you won’t eat anything else. Did you understand me?”
The smile disappeared from her round face, and with a quiet ‘yep’ she disappeared into her room.
* * *
For the next few days we had to live with a sad-looking daughter who was eating her low-fat stuff without saying a word. Martha and I were near to become sympathetic with her because she seemed to have lost all her happiness she used to have. But we wanted to see if she would lose weight if she didn’t eat her fattening food. And the next weigh-in on friday showed some results: 165 pounds. Martha and I were happy, Julie didn’t seem to be glad.
“Julie, you’ve lost weight! Two pounds! That’s great!”
“Yes, Dad, but not being allowed to eat chocolate isn’t great at all.”
“Just wait a few weeks, and you’ll slim down to your old figure. Life will become much more easier for you, and you can start again with your swim training.”
“What a promising life...”, she said somehow ironic. “Dad, Mom, tomorrow my friend Sandy will give a birthday party. Is it okay if I join it?”
“Why not, dear? But don’t come back too late!”
Julie became much more happier after this. She was nearly effusive when she left our house in the afternoon. And she came back in time - at 10 p.m. This was okay, and we were proud of her. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t late. But it was somehow funny that her new baggy blouse seemed to bulge out at her waist, so that Julie was somehow looking pregnant. Funny. And she had difficulties catching breath. But perhaps this was due to her extra pounds.
We learned more about the party on Sunday, when Julies friend Sandy came to bring back the large salad bowl Julie had borrowed to carry her salad in.
“Hi Julie! How are you? Are you feeling well? I didn’t believe my eyes when I saw how much you ate yesterday! I’ve never seen anybody eating so much cake, fries and burgers in such a short time!”
We could see Julie’s expression which seemed to say: Shut up, you silly cow, my parents’ ears are getting larger and larger!
But aloud she said: “Yes, it was a nice party, Sandy. Let’s go into my room.”
* * *
We didn’t believe that our daughter would stuff herself on parties - and we didn’t ask her about it. And somehow we forgot in the next weeks about the weigh-ins, and we didn’t remark that Julie started again to buy and eat chocolate and chips. It was late September, when the weather got hot again, surprisingly hot. We sat on our terrace and had coffee and cake.
Even Julie joined our meeting - she had spent the last weeks only in her room. So we were happy to have a cup of coffee with her. But when we saw her we were stunned. She wore her oldest and tightest clothes and was bursting out of them. Her t-shirt exposed her plump midriff, worked as a bra for her full breasts and divided her belly into three rolls of fat. I didn’t remember her being so fat.
She was much slimmer it seemed when she came back from her summer camp - and we thought she was fat then...! She looked now as if she weighed nearly 200 pounds. When she sat down onto her chair her plump thighs filled the chair’s surface completly, and her enormous belly covered the first ten inches of her thighs. Immediatly she began to take a piece of cheese cake and devoured it quickly. Martha and I were speechless. Obviously our daughter was stuffing herself to obesity and we didn’t notice it!
Before we were able to speak again she had finished the first piece and taken a second. Now it was my turn.
“Julie, don’t you think you should cut back on your eating?
Unfortunately I’ve to say you’ve gotten fatter than we thought. You nearly fit into our garden chair, and you don’t fit into your clothes.”
“Our chairs are too narrow, Dad. And my clothes are just too old. Don’t you want to buy me new ones?”
“I’m afraid we have to if you don’t want to look ridiculous. But tell me, what did you do while sitting in your room during the last weeks?”
“Eating chocolate? Drinking coke? Eating donuts? What do you want to hear, dad? That your nice, little daughter is eating herself into a fat slob? Thanks a lot, Dad, that’s just what I wanted to hear from you!”
She stood up - and the chair with her because of her wide hips - and went back to the house. On half way she went back to our table, took the rest of the cheese cake with - “I don’t think you wanted to finish it now, so I’m doing it” - and went into the house.
We didn’t see her during the rest of the afternoon and the evening. When I came out of the bathroom, having teeth cleaned and wanting to go to bed, I wanted to take a gulp of water - and found Julie in the kitchen. She stood in front of the microwave, her belly arching in front of her, her butt filling her pants as if they were bursting.
“What are you doing here? It’s eleven o’clock! You should be in bed!”
“Dad, I’m still hungry, and I’m going to eat some pizza.”
“So late? Pizza? You won’t be able to sleep well, and I already told you about the weight you have gained! I think we’ll have to weigh you again.”
“Daddy, I’m already eighteen years old and I can eat whenever, whatever and how much I ever want!”
“This is true, Julie, but if you are getting too big you’ll soon have problems.”
“Okay, Dad, perhaps I’ll have problems, but they will be MY problems and not yours. May I eat my pizza now?”
Her self-confidence seemed to have grown with her body! I’ve never heard her saying things like this before. Obviously she was growing up rather quickly, in more than one way. I went to bed and thought if we did anything wrong in her upbringing, but didn’t find the point “educating for overeating”. This night I dreamt of a lot of pizzas, burger, chocolate, so that I really felt full when I awoke.
****
The result of the following weeks was: We couldn’t make her eat less, we couldn’t influence her life in any way. She was eating her way through pounds of chocolates, several dozens of burgers and gallons of ice-cream. And she got fatter and fatter. Just before christmas was approaching she weighed 220 pounds, as she told us.
With her height of 5’5” she looked like a beached whale when she was laying on her sofa, her belly sticking out one foot or more. She now had difficulties to walk more than just a few steps, and if she had to climb the stairs back from the cellar she was totally out of breath.
The holidays became a feast of overeating - for everyone of us. Martha, Julie, I, my brother and his well-fed family, we all were eating as if all supermarkets and restaurants would close at the end of the year. I think the twenty-pound-turkey and all the other good things we had went directly as fat to our hips and bellies. But we didn’t matter. My brother remarked that Julie had become a lot heavier since last year.
“But she is still growing and will need the calories”, he said. I wasn’t sure...
Julie was eating without restraint, her belly was getting rounder and fuller every day, and on New Year’s Eve she looked so bloated as if she was bursting soon.
* * *
Julie continued to eat her way through her college-years. She gained every year about thirty pounds and weighed at her college graduation over 300 pounds. She met a nice boyfriend who weighed at least 350. They moved in together, ate well, and nowe weigh aroubnd 500 each. Thet have found together their 1000-pound-happiness.
- The End -
Our Little Chubette
by Weightwatcher
by Weightwatcher
Our daughter was getting chubby. Since she was twelve years old she carried a few pounds more on her hips than her classmates - but she was far away from being fat. But now, 18 and graduating the next year, it became more and more obvious that her chubby face wouldn’t just be just a carryover from puberty, but stay for longer time. And in the last few months approaching the summer break she had packed on some more pounds - time to do something against a future obesity, so my wife and I thought.
So we decided to sent Julie in a summer camp with her swim team. She was doing swimming since she was six years old, but she has never been on a summer camp. Her trainer promised that all kids would have to do a lot of exercise, so we thought it would be good for her figure. We didn’t want to put her on a diet or into a “fat camp” to lose weight, because we didn’t feel good about it.
“Dieting isn’t healthy and just makes people feel like insecure failures”, my wife said, and I believed that she was right.
So we brought Julie on a bright and warm summer day to the bus which would carry she and 45 other girls and boys in her age to the camp 400 miles away. After exactly six weeks we would see her again. We said quickly “bye”, because she didn’t want the cute looking boys to meet her “old fashioned” parents.
"Okay. See you, bye, Dad, bye, Mom."
We received exactly three postcard from her in these six weeks. And two phone calls. I had expected more, but - we both knew about the interests of Julie, and writing postcards to her parents wasn’t one of them. She wrote very nice, the first card came after the first week, she told us that everything was okay and that she had found nice friends.
The second postcard arrived after four weeks. It was still nice for her, but she had problems with her clothes. What could that be? Trousers ripped? Shrunk in washing machine? Lost? Stolen? But she said she was o.k.
On the telephone she didn’t say much. Just “I’m fine, Dad, don’t worry, everything’s nice here.”
Could mean anything, but I didn’t worry.
We got the last postcard three days before the end of the summer camp. She said, she was looking forward to come home and that we shouldn’t wonder if her appearance had changed somehow. New hair cut? New hair color? A tattoo, made by her best friend? We were a little in sorrow, but we still had trust in our daughter. She wouldn’t do anything bad. Would she?
The day of her arrival was even hotter than the days before. The bus arrived two hours late because the engine of the bus was getting too hot from the high temperatures outside. When the bus finally arrived, 45 sweating children were falling out of it, some of them only wearing their swimwear.
“Mom, it’s been sooo hot inside! I’m so exhausted!” one boy shouted to his parents. Where was our daughter? We couldn’t find her in this crowd of kids and parents.
“Hi Mom, hi Dad!” The voice sounded familiar, but I didn’t see anyone known in my view.
“Dad, Mom, it’s me! I’m back!” And - right - this was - our daughter! I nearly hadn’t recognized her, because - she was literally bursting at the seams. She must have gained thirty pounds or more. Gee! Martha and I looked with astonishment to the strapping girl in front of us.
“Julie! Is it you, really?”
“Who else, Mom?”
“You look somehow - different, dear...”
“That’s just the little weight I’ve gained. No thing to worry about, Mom.”
She took her bag and started to go to our car. Martha and I were somehow stunned and couldn’t believe what we were seeing. ‘A little weight’ was the mother of all understatements! She had gotten huge! The belly she was carrying now had nothing in common with the little tummy she used to have. She wore her pink t-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it. This t-shirt had been baggy when she departed. Now it was so tight that it showed every roll of fat she had developed in this crazy summer camp.
What had happened? What had happened? Martha and I were speechless looking at our daughter waddling to our car, her thighs rubbing against each other and her bottom jiggling and wiggling with every step she made. What had happened?
Back at home Julie drank a whole bottle of Coke.
“I’m so thirsty, and I’m so used to this stuff”, she said with a kind of excuse. “And do you have something to eat? I’m so hungry, I haven’t eaten since morning.”
“Nothing, dear? It’s already 8:00 p.m., you must be really hungry! I’ll see what we have in our fridge.”
Martha went into the kitchen. I started some sort of investigation how my little chubette gained so much weight.
“So you didn’t eat since morning?
“Uhm - nearly, Dad. I only had a small portion of fries and a burger at the service station. Virtually nothing, you see, Dad. Okay, and Suzy had some cake which we ate during the drive.”
“No chocolate, no sweets?”
“Uhm - nearly not. Okay, Suzy and I had together one bar. You know, we won this bar at a competition in our camp. It was the largest chocolate bar I’ve ever seen. I think it weighed more than 20 ounces! “
“So each of you two has eaten 10 ounces of chocolate. Right?”
“Right, Dad... But it was our prize from the competition, so we were allowed to eat it!”
“What kind of competition has it been, dear?”
“Uhm... you see... it was no official competition... nothing to do with our trainer...”
“What kind of competition?”
“Uhm... ‘twas an eating competition”, she muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Kind of eating competition, Dad!”
“And what did you eat and who was competing?”
“I’ll tell you the whole story. Suzy and I became friends, because we were the only girls who were a little chubby. We got into the same room, and Sandy and Melissa were our roommates. Both thin as a rail. And they were disgusting. They were teasing us all the time because of our plump figures. And they bet that we never would beat them in the swimming competitions. Which was true. So we made another bet - that they would never beat us in a marshmallow eating competition. Which was also true. And the huge chocolate bar was the prize they had to give us.”
“And did you also swim during all the six weeks or did you only eat marshmallows?”
“In the beginning I tried to cope with the training schedule. But it was hard, too hard. In the second week I stopped the training and apologized myself to the trainer because of an aching ankle or aching muscles or a special sort of cold which wasn’t really showing but really bad in my body and so on. When the others were doing their training I was sitting in our room and reading and nibbling chocolate and potatoe chips. There was a little shop on the camp ground which was offering all kinds of sweets and chips. Really great.”
“So you stuffed yourself with chocolate when your roommates were doing their training?”
“No, not stuffing, Dad, just nibbling. I was stuffing myself at the regular meals. The meals were so good and the portions were so large that you couldn’t do anything else than stuff yourself. I think the cook must have been earlier employed at Pizza Hut, MacDonalds or Burgerking. Every second day we had pizza, large pieces with a lot of cheese. The other days they offered either hamburger or fries. Or both together. It was so good that I always took seconds or even thirds. Believe me, after lunch I was always stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey!”
Martha came back from the kitchen. “I’ve made you some fries, dear, and there’s another bottle of Coke, if you like.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Martha, our little daughter has stuffed herself with pizza, fries, burgers and chocolate the whole six weeks. I don’t think we should support her fattening eating habits now. Please don’t give her fries and coke.”
“Oh pleeeaaase, Dad! Don’t be so cruel!” Julie made her little-girl-face, which was usually successful in getting from Daddy what she wanted.
“Mike, the fries are ready now. Should I throw them away?”
Martha couldn’t understand me and my concerns.
Okay, I had to understand that there was no chance for a diet yet. Julie devoured a huge portion of fries with a lot of ketchup in front of my eyes. Must have been more than 1000 calories. Additional to the 10 ounces of chocolate and the rest of the fattening food she already had this day. Unbelievable. And Martha apparently didn’t want to acknowledge how fat her daughter had gotten.
“Mike, I don’t know why we should put Julie on a diet. Yes, she has gained some weight, but she will soon have a growth spurt and the baby fat will disappear. Believe me.”
“If a growth spurt could help, she would be 10 feet tall. Look how fat she has become!”
We could watch Julie from the kitchen window how she mowed the lawn. I had given her this task so that she wouldn’t sit the whole day in front of the tv while eating chocolate. She wore her old bermuda shorts who were rather tight now. We could see how much fat she carried on her thighs, her hips, her bottom and her belly. Even her upper arms were now soft and fat.
“Look, she’s waddling!” I said to Martha. “She can’t move her legs without rubbing against each other.”
“Yes, she’s carrying a few extra pounds. She will lose them soon. Just wait until she’s going back to her old eating habits, then her weight will drop like mad.”
I disagreed, but didn’t say anything. We would see. Perhaps my wife was right...
* * *
But she wasn’t. The old ating habits never returned. Four weeks later she hadn’t not only lost one pound but seemed to have gained some more. It was no wonder - if she wasn’t in school or wasn’t sleeping, she was sitting in her room and watching TV. And was always nibbling some chocolate or was eating from a half-gallon icecream-box.
We hadn’t purchased her new clothes because we felt she should lose her weight and shouldn’t get used to it. But now a limit was reached - I could see her t-shirt ending above her love handles, her pot-belly protruding over her waistband and her shorts cutting into her fat thighs. Everybody could see she had gained weight, and those tight clothes were beginning to look ridiculous on her.
Okay - new clothes were allowed, but she had to agree to weigh herself daily and fill in the results in some sort of diary. Her first weigh-in took place on a friday evening. We watched her stepping onto the scale, bursting even out of her underwear. She had to bend forward to see the numbers at her feet.
“163”, Julie said. “That’s less than I expected.”
“That’s exactly 53 pounds more than you should weigh, Julie. 110 pounds are recommended for your age and height.”
“But I don’t think I look too bad for my weight. Could be worse.”
She’s trying to be optimistic and to make the best of the situation, I thought.
“Sure, Julie, you could weigh 200 pounds. That would be worse. But I think more than 160 pounds are bad already. Think of your height.”
Julie was only 5’5” tall, so the pounds were really showing.
“It’s okay, Dad. What do I have to do to fit again into your image of a well-behaving and good-looking daughter?”
“Cut back on your eating, especially on chocolate, chips, ice-cream and coke. And you should start to move again. You could do some jogging...”
“I don’t run, Dad. I’m always exhausted after running even short distances. It isn’t my kind of sport, Dad.”
“What about improving your swimming results? Doing more training?”
“Swimming has gotten so tiring, Dad. I’m always the last one in competitions. Mr. Jackson, our trainer, has told me he didn’t want me to start neither for the short nor for the long distance competitions next month.”
“Hm. You could go to school by bicycle.”
“Dad!!! Five miles to and five miles back, every day? Do you want to kill me?”
This wouldn’t become easy, I thought. Tough discussion. I got a last idea how I could get our little chubette to move her body.
“I’ve made a decision. Your mother won’t buy sweets and coke for you. If you want to eat sweets, you have to go to the supermarket and buy them with your own money.”
“Okay, Dad.”
Surprisingly quickly she agreed. I was sure it would be too much effort for her to walk to the supermarket (which was about half a mile away), buy her food from her own money and then walk back half a mile. But I was wrong. From now every day after she came back from school, she went to the supermarket and bought tons of chocolate, chips and even large bottles of coke, her favourite drink. She stopped eating lunch ‘because of her diet’ - and went directly to her room when she came back with bags of chocolate and chips.
“I’m doing my homework”, she told her mother when she asked what she was going to do. But it was obvious that she was sitting in front of her TV and eating one chocolate bar after the other. I didn’t want to watch over her, but one day I looked in her paper basket and found the packagings of six chocolate bars! And I had emptied her paper basket the day before. So we could be sure that our daughter was stuffing herself with chocolate - which was just the opposite of what we wanted her to do. But if she was gaining weight it would show at the next weigh-in.
This took place on Friday again, one week after the first one. To me she looked heavier now than last week. But perhaps her clothes were just tighter than last week. But her weight was - 167 pounds! A gain of four pounds during one week!
“Julie, could you please explain this weight gain to your parents.”
“Uhm... ahh... seems I’ve gained a little.”
“That’s just what the scale says. What do YOU say?”
“Uhm... perhaps... perhaps I should cut down on breakfast.”
“You’re eating cereals for breakfast with low-fat milk. That doesn’t seem to have much calories.”
“Uhm... I think dinner is the most fattening stuff.”
“Your mother don’t cook with much fat. And you don’t eat much at dinner.”
“Uhm...”
“Okay, I’ll tell you: too much chocolate, too much chips, too much coke. All the stuff you’ve been buying has made you gain weight.”
“I don’t think this was so much to make me gain four pounds.”
“I couldn’t care less about what you think about your weight gain. From now you’ll stop eating chocolate, chips and all the other fattening food. Your mom will make you a low-fat breakfast, a low-fat lunch and a low-fat dinner, and you won’t eat anything else. Did you understand me?”
The smile disappeared from her round face, and with a quiet ‘yep’ she disappeared into her room.
* * *
For the next few days we had to live with a sad-looking daughter who was eating her low-fat stuff without saying a word. Martha and I were near to become sympathetic with her because she seemed to have lost all her happiness she used to have. But we wanted to see if she would lose weight if she didn’t eat her fattening food. And the next weigh-in on friday showed some results: 165 pounds. Martha and I were happy, Julie didn’t seem to be glad.
“Julie, you’ve lost weight! Two pounds! That’s great!”
“Yes, Dad, but not being allowed to eat chocolate isn’t great at all.”
“Just wait a few weeks, and you’ll slim down to your old figure. Life will become much more easier for you, and you can start again with your swim training.”
“What a promising life...”, she said somehow ironic. “Dad, Mom, tomorrow my friend Sandy will give a birthday party. Is it okay if I join it?”
“Why not, dear? But don’t come back too late!”
Julie became much more happier after this. She was nearly effusive when she left our house in the afternoon. And she came back in time - at 10 p.m. This was okay, and we were proud of her. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t late. But it was somehow funny that her new baggy blouse seemed to bulge out at her waist, so that Julie was somehow looking pregnant. Funny. And she had difficulties catching breath. But perhaps this was due to her extra pounds.
We learned more about the party on Sunday, when Julies friend Sandy came to bring back the large salad bowl Julie had borrowed to carry her salad in.
“Hi Julie! How are you? Are you feeling well? I didn’t believe my eyes when I saw how much you ate yesterday! I’ve never seen anybody eating so much cake, fries and burgers in such a short time!”
We could see Julie’s expression which seemed to say: Shut up, you silly cow, my parents’ ears are getting larger and larger!
But aloud she said: “Yes, it was a nice party, Sandy. Let’s go into my room.”
* * *
We didn’t believe that our daughter would stuff herself on parties - and we didn’t ask her about it. And somehow we forgot in the next weeks about the weigh-ins, and we didn’t remark that Julie started again to buy and eat chocolate and chips. It was late September, when the weather got hot again, surprisingly hot. We sat on our terrace and had coffee and cake.
Even Julie joined our meeting - she had spent the last weeks only in her room. So we were happy to have a cup of coffee with her. But when we saw her we were stunned. She wore her oldest and tightest clothes and was bursting out of them. Her t-shirt exposed her plump midriff, worked as a bra for her full breasts and divided her belly into three rolls of fat. I didn’t remember her being so fat.
She was much slimmer it seemed when she came back from her summer camp - and we thought she was fat then...! She looked now as if she weighed nearly 200 pounds. When she sat down onto her chair her plump thighs filled the chair’s surface completly, and her enormous belly covered the first ten inches of her thighs. Immediatly she began to take a piece of cheese cake and devoured it quickly. Martha and I were speechless. Obviously our daughter was stuffing herself to obesity and we didn’t notice it!
Before we were able to speak again she had finished the first piece and taken a second. Now it was my turn.
“Julie, don’t you think you should cut back on your eating?
Unfortunately I’ve to say you’ve gotten fatter than we thought. You nearly fit into our garden chair, and you don’t fit into your clothes.”
“Our chairs are too narrow, Dad. And my clothes are just too old. Don’t you want to buy me new ones?”
“I’m afraid we have to if you don’t want to look ridiculous. But tell me, what did you do while sitting in your room during the last weeks?”
“Eating chocolate? Drinking coke? Eating donuts? What do you want to hear, dad? That your nice, little daughter is eating herself into a fat slob? Thanks a lot, Dad, that’s just what I wanted to hear from you!”
She stood up - and the chair with her because of her wide hips - and went back to the house. On half way she went back to our table, took the rest of the cheese cake with - “I don’t think you wanted to finish it now, so I’m doing it” - and went into the house.
We didn’t see her during the rest of the afternoon and the evening. When I came out of the bathroom, having teeth cleaned and wanting to go to bed, I wanted to take a gulp of water - and found Julie in the kitchen. She stood in front of the microwave, her belly arching in front of her, her butt filling her pants as if they were bursting.
“What are you doing here? It’s eleven o’clock! You should be in bed!”
“Dad, I’m still hungry, and I’m going to eat some pizza.”
“So late? Pizza? You won’t be able to sleep well, and I already told you about the weight you have gained! I think we’ll have to weigh you again.”
“Daddy, I’m already eighteen years old and I can eat whenever, whatever and how much I ever want!”
“This is true, Julie, but if you are getting too big you’ll soon have problems.”
“Okay, Dad, perhaps I’ll have problems, but they will be MY problems and not yours. May I eat my pizza now?”
Her self-confidence seemed to have grown with her body! I’ve never heard her saying things like this before. Obviously she was growing up rather quickly, in more than one way. I went to bed and thought if we did anything wrong in her upbringing, but didn’t find the point “educating for overeating”. This night I dreamt of a lot of pizzas, burger, chocolate, so that I really felt full when I awoke.
****
The result of the following weeks was: We couldn’t make her eat less, we couldn’t influence her life in any way. She was eating her way through pounds of chocolates, several dozens of burgers and gallons of ice-cream. And she got fatter and fatter. Just before christmas was approaching she weighed 220 pounds, as she told us.
With her height of 5’5” she looked like a beached whale when she was laying on her sofa, her belly sticking out one foot or more. She now had difficulties to walk more than just a few steps, and if she had to climb the stairs back from the cellar she was totally out of breath.
The holidays became a feast of overeating - for everyone of us. Martha, Julie, I, my brother and his well-fed family, we all were eating as if all supermarkets and restaurants would close at the end of the year. I think the twenty-pound-turkey and all the other good things we had went directly as fat to our hips and bellies. But we didn’t matter. My brother remarked that Julie had become a lot heavier since last year.
“But she is still growing and will need the calories”, he said. I wasn’t sure...
Julie was eating without restraint, her belly was getting rounder and fuller every day, and on New Year’s Eve she looked so bloated as if she was bursting soon.
* * *
Julie continued to eat her way through her college-years. She gained every year about thirty pounds and weighed at her college graduation over 300 pounds. She met a nice boyfriend who weighed at least 350. They moved in together, ate well, and nowe weigh aroubnd 500 each. Thet have found together their 1000-pound-happiness.
- The End -
