POV: Your Feeder Teases You About Your Willpower

You know what would be funny? We should put you on a diet. I’m serious. Can you imagine your greedy, overfed, blubber-inflated gut being satisfied by a kale salad? Drinking lemon water instead of guzzling liters of soda? The thought is laughable, but it would be so entertaining to see you try. To watch you realize just how much you've let your self-control erode. Realize just how addicted you are to stuffing your face with all those greasy, fattening feasts every day, how you can barely go an hour without shoving a snack between those chubby lips. 

Watching you try to cut back will force you to acknowledge just how much of a perpetually bloated glutton you’ve become compared to the average person. A normal person. Because the way you eat is anything but normal. You don’t pile on all this blubber with nutritionally balanced meals, do you? No. The only way someone could get as big as you, could blimp themselves up into a rounded tub of lard that jiggles with every movement and can hardly squeeze into their clothes like you, is to eat like a total pig. To stuff themselves past their capacity until they’re a burping, groaning mess. Which is what you do every single day. 

What if all those binges turned into meal preps of broccoli and chicken breasts? What if I took away all those snacks crowding your cabinets and pantry and cleared your kitchen of all the frozen pizza and ice cream? What if I deleted the delivery apps off your phone so you couldn’t order enough fast food for four anymore? Be honest, how long do you think you could last? Three days? Two? You're so used to gorging yourself that you’d probably be at your wit's end after just a few hours. You’d probably be sneaking snacks and cheating on your diet that very first day, you probably wouldn't be able to help it. 

Do you think you’d be embarrassed? To admit to yourself that you can't hack it? To admit that you’ve gotten so big that eating a balanced meal in a reasonable portion seems like a punishment? Your poor little stomach would be grumbling and groaning with hunger, you’d be just miserable. All cause you’re not allowed to pig out whenever you want. 

A diet would expose just how much food controls your entire life, wouldn't it? I mean, what else would you even do all day? Because the only thing I ever see you do is eat. It's your only true interest, your only hobby. While other people go for walks or play an instrument, you suck down milkshakes. So you’d be hungry, and cranky, and bored. Nothing to do because we had to put you on a diet just so you can try and squeeze back into your sweatpants without bursting the seams. 

Speaking of sweat, what if we put you on a little workout plan too? What if you had to squeeze into your old spandex athletic gear and jiggle around while I watch, gasping for air like a beached whale the second you start putting in any effort? I wanna watch all that swollen blubber bounce up and down while you try to do some jumping jacks. I wanna watch that protruding, overfed gut bunch into a pile of flabby rolls as you fail to attempt a sit-up. I wanna watch you struggle to bend down and lace up your tennis shoes, your chubby little cheeks growing red from exhaustion and embarrassment. 

Don’t worry though, this little health routine won’t have any effect on your weight. For a normal person, dieting and exercising means they’d get fitter, they’d drop a few pounds and pick up some healthy habits. Not for pigs like you. For a pig like you, a diet is just a challenge. How many ways can you bend the rules, how much can you sneak before it starts to get too obvious.

Like I said, you’ll barely last a day, but pretending to be on a diet for my sake while you secretly stuff your face behind my back is just gonna make you even fatter. You’ll feel deprived, rebellious, and you’ll start putting away more than you ever have, inflating yourself with thousands of calories worth of junk every time my back is turned just to lie to my face and tell me that your diet is going well. We’re both gonna watch you get bigger and bigger and we’ll both just pretend, won't we? We’ll pretend you’re dropping weight instead of adding it. We’ll pretend that we can’t both see how tight your t-shirts are growing, how the kitchen chairs creak just a little bit more every time you plop that ample, wobbling body down to put away another meal. 

We’ll pretend that you’re not so far gone that going on a diet actually makes you gain weight. We’ll pretend you’re not outgrowing your clothes and your furniture right in front of both of our eyes. We’ll pretend until I catch you pigging out, and then I'll make you admit it. Make you confess that you’ve been cheating all along, make you admit that you weren't even able to hold out for a few hours. That from the first day I put you on this diet you’ve been sneaking junk because you couldn't help yourself. 

I’ll force you to admit that you’re addicted. You're addicted to food, addicted to eating yourself fatter and fatter. I’ll convince you that you should never try a diet again. That it's pointless, that you’ll never have the willpower to drop a single ounce. We both know it's true. But I’m gonna make you say it out loud. I’m gonna feed you by hand and force you to repeat it until you truly internalize it. 

That would be so hot. To watch you discover just how far gone you are. To watch you realize that all that blubber is permanent, that you can’t just stop all this unrestricted gluttony anytime and go back to a normal life. That even if you actually wanted to diet, even if it was your choice and not my suggestion, you’d fail miserably. You’re always going to be fat. It's true whether you believe it or not, but I wanna see the expression on your tubby little face when you finally see yourself for what you really are. A greedy, bloated, permanently swollen little piggy too fat to even attempt a diet, too lazy to even attempt a workout. 

That's all you’ll ever be, and I wanna watch you turn to food for comfort when you try and lose weight only to immediately fail. To immediately find yourself cramming down junk food while you rub that tubby gut.

C’mon. Let's buy you some salads. It's time to put you on a diet.