The First 30

It all began when I turned 30 years old. Something changed, something clicked, and my body would never be the same again. I’m not sure I can pin down why, but I sure as hell know what happened. The truth is that it probably wasn’t one single thing, but a constellation of events coalescing into a perfect storm that led me to gain those first 30 pounds.

All my life I had been skinny, even since I was a baby. I was lanky and thin with a metabolism that was beyond efficient. I often stood out for how thin I was in grade school and when I stopped growing I stood out for how tall I was. By high school I was 6 foot and around 140 pounds, maybe even less. My identity, or rather the identity that people projected onto me, was that of a tall and spindly well dressed gay man. And to a degree, they weren’t wrong.

I was never entirely comfortable with this characterization, though. I wanted to be beefier, to achieve a body that conveyed masculinity. My thin arms and bony chest did not accomplish that. In college, I would go through periods of trying to overeat and bulk up but truly nothing would stick. I didn’t have the interest or the time to work out either. It felt like I was fated to a certain body type that was beyond my control. By my mid-20s, I began to accept this.

At that point in time I thought I would be a hot Clark Kent type, but clearly that was never going to be a reality so I worked on some self-acceptance. By my late 20s I was getting bored with life and began pursuing more physically demanding activities such as rock climbing, swimming, and kayaking. After a few experiences with sore muscles and fatigued limbs, along with a set of weights I inherited from a friend, I began to do small workouts in my room.

I was experimenting, really. I wanted to see if this would have any effect, not just physically but also in terms of mood. Lo and behold, it did. I barely saw any physical progress but my bouts of depression and anxiety were growing smaller and smaller and that was significant. So I kept with it. And then I did start to see minor results so I figured I might as well start consuming more protein to see where I could take this. On the precipice of turning 30 I was slender but extremely toned.

Around the same time I received a significant promotion. I had been doing administrative work for a small company the last few years and landed a new job with the city. This new position was a promotion in terms of title and responsibilities as well as in terms of pay. I suppose my pay was modest compared to some people, but I had never seen so much money in my life. Plus benefits! I couldn’t believe it.

I no longer had to live with roommates and struck out on my own in a modest but beautiful one bedroom apartment with a decent view. For the first time in my life I was beginning to feel like an adult, and I looked like one too! I was sitting at around 160 pounds of mostly muscle and it felt great. Still, I had no idea how much further I could take that in terms of appearance.

I turned 30 feeling more confident than ever. I was even getting laid more often, probably because of my newfound confidence more than anything else. However, my new job came with some drawbacks. I was incredibly busy, somewhat overworked, and barely found time for myself. I kept up with my at-home workouts but my outdoor hobbies were dwindling. I just didn’t have the energy! As a result, my muscles grew but my stamina weakened. On top of it all, I found myself eating out a lot more often. I had the disposable income to do so and cooking often required too much effort. Not surprisingly, I put on some fat for the first time in my life. On accident no less!

I first noticed it on my lower body. The interior of my thighs were a bit squisher out of nowhere. They would pool out more when I sat down and took up more space in my pants. When I lifted my leg I could make my thighs jiggle and sway. I even enjoyed giving them some good thwacks in the same manner I would often deliver to my lovers.

Along with the thighs came the ass. It was certainly beginning to round out beyond the squats I did regularly, particularly the lower portion. As the weight accumulated, gravity worked against the tautness of my glutes. I could reach around and cup a comfortable bit of pudge on my rump. This was particularly thrilling and I began to work my ass out even harder so that my silhouette would pop in my jeans.

This was only the beginning though, and while I noticed it, I didn’t give it much thought and continued on with my life. Then a month or two passed and I started to notice that my jeans were definitely more snug than I was accustomed to. I was certain my intake hadn’t increased and was genuinely surprised. Where was this coming from? I had no choice but to chalk it up to the fact that men’s metabolisms often screech to a halt in their 30s. What else could it be? I just didn’t think it would happen so promptly after my 30th!

Regardless, I didn’t mind getting a bit thicker. Most of it went to my lower half anyway while the rest only smoothed the hard contours I had developed exercising my upper body. It felt good. I felt heavier, more masculine, like I could stand my ground a bit better than before. A gust of wind could not push me over, but a savory aroma could certainly beckon.

At this point a key new ingredient entered my life: marijuana. Pot had just been legalized in my city and I decided to give it a whirl. I wasn’t a big drinker and I liked the idea of consuming something natural that came from the ground. After a few puffs I was in love. I enjoyed the way in which it heightened my senses. Music sounded more intense and complex, visual beauty was somehow more beautiful, and food… food was delicious. I don’t think I’d ever enjoyed eating so much and on top of it my stomach became a bottomless pit when I was stoned.

What began as a little puff here and there turned into a nightly routine. I would return home from work, tear off my clothes, take a luxuriously long shower, and then spark up, eat some food, and watch something on the TV. Weed helped me unwind and intensified the pleasures of being at home. That was worth the increased appetite for me.

I began to accept the fact that I needed to keep the shelves stocked with sweet and savory treats for when I got the munchies. Sometimes I’d even wake up in the morning with wrappers and food crumbs in my bed. Additionally, this was expanding my appetite during the day. My stomach had more capacity and I found myself eating four to five meals a day just to stay satiated. All of that eating was definitely making a dent in the bank account as well, but I could afford it after all. Perhaps these should have been red flags, but I didn’t care. I was settling into my 30s and I was having a good time. Why stop?

Well, the first alarm bell went off one day when I pulled out an old pair of slacks for a work event. I hadn’t worn these in a couple years but I kept them around in case of events such as this. And surprise! I couldn’t even button them closed, not even close. Hell, it was hard for me to even get them over my ass. It was at this point that I really took a step back to examine my body. I knew I had gained some, but this felt different.

Sure, my thighs and ass were thicker, dare I say juicy. I was aware of that much as I had been enjoying those gains for quite some time. I took pleasure in jiggling and slapping my ass as I jerked off and so did the guys that I hooked up with. It was cakey and sometimes I could even feel it bounce as I walked around the house in the nude. Likewise, my thighs stood as solid support for all that jelly.

What I hadn’t noticed was my waist. Clearly I had gotten thicker in the middle if these pants refused to button, but it wasn’t until I pinched a good inch of chub at my hips that it sunk in. I was no longer a skinny guy. My navel was beginning to puff out from beneath my happy trail and when I sat down it turned into a solid roll of flab. How couldn’t I have noticed? Now that I was aware it was all I could think about. My belly curled over every waistband I owned when I was sitting down. It even was noticeable underneath my shirts!

To be fair, I had recently noticed the bit of extra chub that had gathered under my chin. It was warm, a bit uncomfortable, and collected sweat sometimes. Still, I hadn’t quite noticed that my cheeks in general were a tad fuller. My naturally slender face did not look fat by any means, but I could see the difference now that I was looking. My cheekbones and jaw were ever so slightly less defined. It was strange… strangely exhilarating.

At this point I knew I had the option to slow down. I could start hitting the gym more, doing more cardio, or any cardio at all... I could work on losing weight or even maintaining what I had. I was not overweight, or at least didn’t appear so compared to a lot of my peers, but I knew I was on the precipice. My twink days were long gone and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to say “good riddance.” Sure, I could lose weight. But why bother? I felt like I was finally growing into myself so I decided to just do what felt right.

Well, increasingly what felt right was stuffing my face with junk food on a nightly basis. Now that I discovered how fun it was to eat it was as though I had to make up for all those years lost. Sure, I was likely to gain more weight, I knew that was a risk now. To compensate, I hit the weights harder and I did start doing some light cardio here and there. I wanted to stay healthy and I also wanted the muscle to balance out any extra thickness that came my way. And boy, did it come my way.

Suddenly, everything started expanding. With the increased intake my muscles had the fuel to grow at a rate I wasn’t used to. Before I knew it my upper body had popped off. For the first time in my life I actually had broad shoulders and a defined chest. My arms got even larger and if it weren’t for the fat compacting around my middle I would probably have noticeable abdominal muscles.

With both muscle and fat gains my wardrobe was quickly becoming obsolescent. My problem with those slacks spread to every other pair of pants I owned. The ones that actually would button required that I suck in with all my might to get them closed and it often wasn’t even worth it they were so uncomfortable. For quick errands I would opt for sweatpants but even those cut in a bit harshly at times.

At least my tops still fit, but their days were numbered. Every single one showed off the weight I had put on. T-shirts were strained around my arms, chest, and belly. The hems flirted dangerously with riding up but never exposed too much. Even my looser shirts blossomed against the tubbiness that was ever-accumulating at my center. When I sat down, there was no denying that I was getting a gut.

In order to maintain a level of decency and professionalism in civil society, I begrudgingly dropped quite a lot of money on new clothes throughout that year. In my younger days I loved fashion and getting dressed up, but lately those joys felt hollow. I was more interested in good friends, good times, and good food. I didn’t care what I looked like, but I also knew I needed to look presentable.

On my 31st birthday I was a new man. I looked different. I felt different. I was a different person.

My body was entirely different than it was a year ago. My back had developed a V-shape that was corrupted by a pair of aggressive love handles and a gut that was only a few pounds away from an overhang. My arms were beefier than ever, but muscle definition was a thing of the past. My pecs were hard and pronounced, but beginning to droop with fat. My ass had grown fat beyond belief and garnered stares from men and women alike. It bounced and jiggled more than any other part of my body, and there were a lot of parts that bounced and jiggled now. My thighs were in perpetual contact with one another. Chub rub was beginning to kick in and destroy the crotch of all my new jeans. Altogether, I was a solid hunk of meat. There was no denying the dad bod.

I had gotten plenty of comments from friends and family, and most of them were complimentary. I think everyone could sense my newfound confidence and knew better than to question something as petty as someone’s weight. And you know what? Sure I was getting kind of plump, I had a few stretch marks in places where the sun doesn’t shine, I huffed a bit more going up the stairs, I was a whole lot sweatier than I used to be, but hell, I was doing great.

I’d gotten a raise at work. I was getting laid left and right. It was undeniable that lots of men were very into the dad bod look. I was living well and eating even better. The proof was in the pudding that was my stocky self.

That day, on my birthday, I stepped on the scale for the first time in a little over a year. I weighed just under 200 pounds. That was about 30 pounds gained over the course of my 30th year on this planet. I was both surprised and not surprised. It seemed like a lot, but was it? It was certainly more than I’d ever gained in any other year of my life. I mean, yeah I felt heavier but it didn’t feel that different.

And then I began to ponder. What would the next year bring?Another 30 pounds? Hell, if 30 didn’t feel like that much maybe I should shoot for something higher… 40? 50? Could I hit 60 pounds gained in one year? No harm in trying...