Nothing compares to the feeling of being fat.
To be able to look down at yourself, no matter where you are, and see a gelatinous mass of soft, squishy adipose. To feel the weight of an augmented belly as it sags over your pants, giving in to gravity after spending so long fighting it. To feel the constant jiggling of love handles with every movement. To have to put all your energy into every exhausting step you take as you waddle, rather than walk, the too-long distance from the bed to the recliner. To only just manage to squeeze your wide hips and backside into said recliner – never mind that it was the biggest they make. To hear the groaning of every bit of furniture as you settle into it, all the while fearing its imminent collapse. To know that wherever you go, without fail, you will be the biggest person there by far.
And yet you still won’t feel big enough.
People ask me all the time why I chose to gain so much weight, and after struggle to come up with an answer that