So, unless you are a feeder or feedee yourself, the above statements probably completely baffle you. Why would anyone WANT to gain weight?

The truth is that I have no earthly idea. I just do. I want to be fat(ter). It may be akin to wondering why you’re gay. It’s probably something that can’t be explained easily, if at all. The things that I do know, though, are below. (I like lists.)

✰ I think about gaining weight all the time.

✰ I have an internal conversation with myself about how fattening each meal is. The more fattening, the better.

✰ Gaining is very much a sexual interest. I think it’s indescribably hot.

✰ But I am not attracted to fat and/or gaining guys.

✰ I’ve wanted to be huge as long as I remember. As a kid I was fascinated with fat and fat people, and I would stuff pillows and stuffed animals into my clothes to make me look and feel bigger.

✰ I love thinking about how much space I take up and contemplating how much more space I could potentially take up.

✰ I love being fed by a guy.

✰ Belly rubs are incredible, too.

✰ I love the way my fat body moves. My belly jiggles and sways when I walk in a way that (in my mind) can only improve with more weight.

✰ I eat a lot in a sitting, but I wish I could eat more. I’m trying to train myself to eat more in a sitting.

✰ I take all-natural weight gain supplements. I have no idea if they’re effective. They make me feel better, though.

✰ I desperately want my ass to grow.

✰ I have extreme feeding and immobility fantasies. They will probably never come true, but I still have them. I also like fetish art depicting massive, immobile women. And extreme weight gain erotic stories.

✰ The thought of losing weight makes me all panicky.

✰ It turns me on that I get out of breath quickly and can’t fit places. It’s just another illustration of how fat I am, and I like it.

✰ Just because you’re a feeder doesn’t mean I want you to feed me. I can like this stuff and still be picky.

✰ I fantasize about being fed every day.

✰ I often find myself absently playing with my belly.

✰ I have the nutrition facts website for all of the major fast food chains bookmarked and in a folder on my computer. I like to determine the most fattening meal so I can order it on my next trip.

✰ I like scooters. In a perfect fantasy world I would love to have one to use all the time so I could expend as little energy as possible.

✰ I find the idea of having a triple-digit BMI incredibly intriguing.

✰ Food + sex = very, very good.

I’m sure there is more to be said, and I’ll probably add to this, but for now if anyone happens to read this and wants to know more, I’ll gladly tackle any questions.

So in 3 weeks (over Thanksgiving weekend) I will be leaving this apartment and the DC area behind. I’m really sad about it, actually. Anyone who knows me knows that this area isn’t my favorite and that I was hoping to move soon anyway. But I guess my problem is that I haven’t been given a choice in the matter. I wanted to leave on my own terms and in my own time. More than that, though, is the fact that this (just over a) year has been the first time I’ve really been On My Own in my life. I mean, I had lived away from my family before, but it had always been within rescuing distance. Just over a year ago, I came here with nothing. I knew no one. I had taken the first job offer I’d received, and my closest relatives were 5 hours away. And it was HARD. There were many, many times that I wanted to get in my car and drive the 12 hours back to my family’s farm in Indiana and forget that the DC area even existed.

But it offered me my first taste of freedom, too. In the last year I’ve felt more like myself than at any time in my life. My distance from home has allowed me to travel all over the east coast and to become a real, tangible part of a community. I don’t think I’d have the experiences and friends that I have if I hadn’t made this leap. I’m sad to leave it behind (especially 2 months before the most important Presidential Inauguration of our time. Gah. I may find a way to come back for that, though.)

Three weeks. I don’t know where I’m going yet. My mom wants me to come home for a few months. I cringe at the thought. I’ll always love the farm and my hometown, but I swore I’d never live there again. I never want to live there again. It’s so closed-off and stifling, and I can practically feel my sense of freedom escaping me as I think about going back. I haven’t been home in about 3 years, and even then it was only for a week. By the end of that week, I was ready to hitchhike if that’s what it took to get away. There’s just nothing for me there anymore. I guess that’s the only way I can describe it.

So I’m not sure. I may spend a couple of weeks at soup’s house (for some strange reason her mom loves me–and Charlie–and has said that I’m welcome). Then maybe a week at home for Christmas. I feel like a drifter. It’s a really, really strange thing.

The holidays were really hard last year for my family, so at this point, I’m just hoping that they race by without any major trauma. Of course, with the way things are going, I’m not feeling very hopeful that that will happen. I’m just holding onto the date for the HB holiday dance for dear life at this point. The idea of being there with so many people I’ve grown to know and love as family over the past year is enough to keep me focused on getting through the time between now and then.

I’m starting to learn, through all of this, that I’m a bit of a control freak. The idea of things being so up in the air is giving me great anxiety. Right now the holidays look like a lot of fog, but my hope is that the new year will bring some clarity.

In the meantime, I’ll be updating here as often as I can manage with new developments and decisions. Thanks for reading.

I linked my Dims profile to this blog yesterday, and I already have viewers. Didn’t expect this.

I feel like I have unexpected guests coming over, and the house is still a mess.

Anyway, this blog is new and still being built, so please bear with me, new viewer people!

My roommate is currently away. French Guiana or something. I’m rejoicing.

And pantsless.

I’ve always wanted to live alone so I could walk around naked constantly. Well now I’m on a trial run! Nichole is out of the country until next Wednesday. I plan to be naked or nearly naked every waking moment that I’m at home until then.

But there are cons to my new lack of wardrobe: Cold dog noses. Curtains have to stay closed. Cooking bacon is painful.

So, if you plan on knocking on my door any time in the next week, be warned. You may get an eye full.