I've had enough, when some stranger refers to you as that 'fat girl' it's time to do something about it. Well I may be a few pounds over weight but I'm not that bad. My boobs are big and bouncy now at 44 with a double D cup, my waist may have a few extra inches, let me see, oh my god 38 and my hips are 48, no wonder I haven't had a boyfriend for awhile. Ok a diet is called for, a slice of toast and black coffee for breakfast, a thin sandwich with a apple for lunch and a big dinner in the evening, mostly of vegetable. I can live with that, I think. I'm not interested in weight loss, just inches.
I sort out all my clothes into ones that fit me now, ones that are just a bit tight and those I can't get into anymore. My goal is to get into those white Jeans and tank top at the end of the rail, the ones I wore on that great holiday I had with Paul; thinking of Paul brought a tear to my eyes.
Its payday, almost a month since I started this bloody diet. After a long soak in the bath, I stood in front of my mirror, knowing that my clothes are definitely looser now than they were. I look critically at myself, out comes the tape measure, pull it tight, right, bust 42 waist 36 and hips 46. Great that inches off all round. Time to try on some of my old clothes. I find an older bra, that fits ok, but try as I might I can't find any knickers to fit. Ok new knicks tomorrow. Now that tight dress, yes still a bit tight but it fits much better now. I buy six pairs of new knickers and carry on with my regime. Although I'm now wearing different clothes, no one seems to notices my weight loss, still it's still early days.
It's payday again, and I know I have lost weight, my bras are so loose, I just don't fill the cups like a used to. I stand in front of the bedroom mirror again and measure myself. 40 - 34 - 44 not bad and probably only a D cup. I turn and look at myself, my boobs were always my best feature, now stand out proudly with very little droop. Time I started going out more often, wearing some of my older and sexier clothes that again fit me; those white jeans though are still a distant dream. Rummaging though my draws I find my old photo album, '1997 summer holiday', there I was on the beach, spilling out of my little bikini; and there was Paul the bastard.
It's payday again and my monthly ritual begins, the tape measure tells it's own story. 40 - 30 - 42, my bust is still holding up but I have lost inches everywhere else; time for some new knicks again. For the first time I try on those Jeans, hey I can get in them, even if I can't do them up. I'm feeling good about myself now, and I have noticed men looking at me again, I've missed that; and I got a date. Bill from sales has asked me out for a drink. I take care to dress ok, using one of my new front opening bras, well you never know, a girl could get lucky. Bill picked me up and we end up in this private drinking club; I had a great time. I had forgotten how nice it was to be entertained by a man; the drinks flowed. Bill took me home and he soon found the clip of my front opening bra; my new knickers are hanging off one ankle while he feeding me a good six inches of heaven. My god, my vibrator never felt this good; just in time I told him to pull out for I haven't been taking my pills for months. I took him in my mouth and he spurts down my throat. We hug for a bit, then he kissed me and went home. I wonder how many calories there are in a mouthful of sperm. I must remember to start taking my pills again at the start of my next cycle.
.... There is more of this story ...