I... I can’t believe I’ve let myself go this far. I don’t even recognize myself this Thanksgiving . My reflection shows a round, greasy, bloated mess—an absolute pig. Every inch of me screams indulgence and overindulgence. I’ve let my greed and gluttony consume me to the point where my brain feels like it’s hardwired to think of nothing but food.

Today, I’ve gone all out. I’ve cooked a feast that could easily feed a family of six, but it’s all for me . Every greasy, calorie-laden bite. I’m going to push myself to eat as much as humanly possible—and then go even further. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’ll hurt. But I don’t care. The p*in is part of it now. I’m addicted to the stretch, the strain, the way my gut presses against everything, leaving me helplessly swollen and immobile.

On the menu: green beans dripping in butter and oil, mac and cheese so rich it could clog a drain, cranberry sauce, stuffing soaked in gravy, a dozen fluffy rolls, and a ten-pound turkey. And for dessert? A dozen tarts, a chocolate pecan pie, and an entire cookie cake. I even have soda to keep me burping and to make room for more. I know how disgusting I look when I eat. Gravy drips down my chin, crumbs stick to my cheeks, and butter smears across my hands. I’m practically naked because my clothes don’t fit anymore. I clean myself up with a roll because why w*ste calories on napkins when I can eat them instead? E very bite makes me more of a mess—a bloated, greasy monument to overindulgence.

I can’t help but laugh at myself. I waddle when I move, my belly swinging and sl*shing like a sack of pudding. I have to sit in a reinforced chair just to handle the strain of my weight. And as much as I try to deny it, I can feel my thoughts slipping away with each bite, leaving me dumber, slower, and more helpless. I’ve become so lazy that I’d rather let food be wheeled to me than get up to serve myself. Why do I do this to myself? Why can’t I stop? Why do I love it so much? I crave the shame, the helplessness, the sheer overwhelming greed of it all. Every bite is a surrender, every meal a step further down this path. I’ve let myself become the stereotype—the fat, lazy pig who can’t stop shoving food in her mouth even when it hurts.

This is Thanksgiving, though. This is the holiday that celebrates indulgence. And for me, it’s my biggest stuffing of the year. A gluttonous extravaganza to prepare for the winter ahead—a winter where I’ll pile on even more padding, waddling into the new year bigger, softer, and more helpless than ever before.

***

Clip features: fat chat, belly jiggles, nearly nude, messy eating, massive stuffing, burps, extreme gaining elements

My Biggest Thanksgiving Stuffing: Stretched and Covered in Grease & Gravy