pt1

I am a disgusting fat body. I am so gross and swollen it is absolutely disgusting to me; it is revolting; even I repel myself, I can only imagine how grotesque I appear to other people. I am already more offended by myself than you could ever be.

He rolled over in bed and tried to sit up but the rolls of fat in his belly prevented him- he grunted and grimaced and produced a slim, squeaky fart from underneath and fell back onto the pillows, panting with effort. Just reaching for his nighttime snack had produced a sweat on his pasty white skin. He sat there breathing heavily, saturating the sheets, and stared at the meat sandwich with a few bites taken out of it. he always liked to leave himself some for the morning, then he wouldn’t have to get out of bed for breakfast for awhile. He closed his eyes and gathered his strength for another try.
Laying there on the mound of propped up pillows, arms at his sides, eyes closed, mouth left open, rolls of flesh pressing the bed down into an indent the shape of his familiar body, he looked like nothing more than one of those big sea lions that sun themselves on the beach- he had seen one with Stacy the summer they met; it snored loudly as they each took a picture of the other standing beside it, then it had woken up and moved quicker than you would think and almost knocked her aside. She screamed and was going to jump into his arms but he was already retreating from it. The thing simply moved farther up the beach for a few moments more sunning away from the tourists, and she stood there looking at him with disappointment but he laughed to cover it up and would always tell people how she had screamed and ran that day on the beach, and she would just stare at him as he guffawed… that’s what he remembered most about her, that disappointed glare- he ignored it then, but it seemed to tear right thru him now, even from years away.
He felt like that thing now, huge and basking, but there was no sun in his stale room, and he was not preserving his strength for a reach at the blinds, but for a reach at.. that.. Sandwich!! He dove for it and grabbed it, and fell back on the pillows in one rolling motion, the echoes of fat subsiding as he shoved the sandwich into his mouth repeatedly until there was none left, and smiled in a distant, pleased way.
Still tastes good 8 hours later, he thinks; there’s something about food that sits out for a while, it almost tastes better than when it comes out of the fridge or out of the package. You gotta get the air on it, he thinks, let a few flies shit on it- get that natural taste to it. a wide grin forms on his wide face and the many folds of chin begin to laugh one after the other in a cascading effect, like a waterfall of flesh, all the way down to his spread out belly where the sandwich parts are beginning to digest along with everything else he ate last night. I’m gonna have to take a shit soon, he thought, but not quite yet. He floats for a while, not really asleep, but not awake either.