When I first told my friends that I was going on an all-cake diet they were sceptical, to say the least. “Are you sure, Rhonda?” one asked, as we tucked into the lemon tart she’d just made. “Are you sure you don’t even want to throw some biscuits in there, for variety?” Well, I stuck to my guns, and boy am I glad I did!
I haven’t eaten anything but cake for 52 weeks and I can’t remember the last time I had this much energy, or fitted better in my clothes. I bought these clothes in a size up earlier last year to try and motivate myself to gain weight, but I could never have dreamed I’d fit in them this soon. I fill them out perfectly.
Everybody’s so impressed. My boyfriend says that there’s more of me to love, and he’s thrilled that I’ve gone up a cup size. Now he can hold one breast in each hand whenever he’s at a loss as to what to do in the bedroom. Thankfully, this is less and less often since we’ve introduced food into our sex life! We’ve moved away from BDSM because now I’m constantly pleasantly full I just have no urge to hurt him anymore. Now if he wants to get whipped he’ll have to get to the cream can before I do!
Of course, you can’t control how the weight distributes itself. My right breast is still slightly bigger than the other, but I’m planning on eating the left half of an apple pie every day until it balances out.
Appearance is obviously the least of it. The weight gain’s changed me in more than superficial ways. I finally feel like everybody’s seeing the real me, who’s confident and bubbly and just you know, comfortable in herself? Like, I always wanted to be the funny, jolly girl in my friendship group, but Debbie’s had the monopoly on that ever since she failed to shift her pregnancy weight. It’s ridiculous really, because Deb’s not even that funny. The whole group had been urging her to go to Zumba for ages in the hope that she’d get thin enough that someone else would get a chance to shine. But now that I’m more than five stone heavier than her there’s no doubt that it’s my turn, and I’m really bringing it with the food-related puns! I just can’t wait until I’m bigger - the fatter I get the more weight-related anecdotes I’ll have to share. Deb’s going to have to do a lot more than switch to full-fat milk if she wants to get her spot back!
The kids love it too. When it’s the end of the school day and there’s this whole hoard of skinny white mothers – our school is just not that multicultural – queuing up to collect their kids, it can be frightening. Hugo and Tabitha almost went home with a stranger once just because they couldn’t figure out which mother was theirs! But now they spot me coming from a mile off. Hugo’s dream is that one day I’ll get so big that he’ll be able to crawl under one of my layers of flesh in a game of hide of seek. I’ve warned him of the dangers of thinking too big, though. He’s only six but I’d just hate to think of him growing up with unrealistic expectations of women’s bodies.