It was past mid-summer now, and you hadn’t weighed yourself since New Year’s because you were scared of what the scale would tell you. The New Year’s weigh-in had left you a bit shocked and embarrassed, vowing to get back in the gym, rein in your diet, and really lose some weight this time. You’d never meant to gain so much weight. It was supposed to be a little experiment, maybe 10 or 20 pounds, just to explore your feedee side.

Playing with FFAs had been more fun than you had anticipated, though, and somewhere along the way, it had turned into a bigger experiment than intended.

A MUCH bigger experiment, you mused, running a hand over your substantial gut as you looked down at it, noticing how it hung over your pants. Your once defined muscles were now covered in flab. Stairs left you winded, where previously you could jog for miles. You felt like the beard you’d grown since getting fat barely covered up your double chin.

Geez. You really could stand cut back and lose a few.

Even as you thought it, you knew if you took out your phone right now and snapped some photos, a couple of your FFA friends would be pretty excited to see them, especially if you told them how fat you were feeling today and how you had only managed to make it to the gym a handful of times this year.

You went to your closet for a tighter t-shirt, one that no longer covered your belly completely. The photo with your hand on top of your belly turned out pretty well, you thought. So did the one taken below your belly looking up. You even took one with your jeans button undone, even though these jeans did fit. You couldn’t wait to share them.

The scale could wait for another day.

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