All this time I spent piggin' out meant that I just never had time to wash my clothes. Not that it mattered, I would wear clothes for weeks on end. And when I did change I just picked another set up off my bedroom floor that I had probably worn for weeks beforehand. Every item of clothing I owned was totally soaked (and eventually encrusted) with the greasy sweat of an obese woman. They were all stained with blotches of grease and all sorts of sauces. Of course since I was always fallin' back on old clothing, it was all too tight. My flabby gut spilled over my buttoned pants, my love handles flopped over my waistband, my cuffs cut deep into my ballooning arms, and her cottage cheese ass cheeks hung out my shorts. On top of it, I loved all the attention my exposed chub and rancid smell got me. Folks everywhere stopped and stared at this waddlin', wobblin' mess of a gal. Of course, they were all outwardly disgusted, but I knew that they probably went home and vigorously got off to me. After all, who doesn't want a gal with the confidence and freedom I have? A gal who is so sure of her clothing choices bein' the right ones that she wears them for weeks on end. Speakina which, I could probably go for another check on my list
YOU ARE READING
How 2 Slob
FantasyEver'one been wonderin' how I done gone an' did it, turnin' myself into the human example of a pig stench and all fer years now so I reckoned I oughta do what I love an' treat myself to this here biography tellin' you how it happend, every step of t...
