The unbearable heaviness of being you.

First things first, you need to get out of this wheelchair and back on your feet. If nothing else, you need to get your muscles active once more before they atrophy into nothing, and you need as much exercise as you can get. Obviously, magic is out at this point, it's diet and exercise for you if you manage to get out of this.

You can't reach the handles of the wheelchair, and your wedged at this point, so you doubt you'd be able to pry yourself loose even if you could reach it. But that doesn't mean you can't move. You thrust yourself to the side, then the next, feeling the chair tip a little. You continue building momentum until the chair starts to rock, eventually raising one wheel off the ground and...

***CRUNCH***

Expectedly, the wheel crumples under the weight, not designed to support the whole load of it's occupant, then tipping over, and sending you rolling out of your seat. Roll is the correct term, as your rounded body turns over the ground lite a water balloon, until you end up on your side, your belly spilling across the floor like a beanbag.

Now to get to your feet. This is much harder, as your swollen limbs are weak and cumbersome. Your arms rub against the roll of your chest, and your thighs are separated by your stomach roll in front, and squashed together in back by gravity. Even rolling is hard with the counterweight of your rump on the other side. But the gravity of your situation is a good motivator, and you force yourself to move, even against the pain of pinching skin and stretching skin as you struggle to shift your weight, eventually rolling onto your stomach. You then push as hard as you can to roll back, until your feet touch the floor. You then strain against the weight of your stomach, feeling your back muscles clenching until finally you manage to stand, though your stomach still rests against the floor.

You pant, out of breath from the unaccustomed exercise. You now need to figure out walking again, as a good portion of you now rests against the ground, threatening to trip you with a careless step. Your arms can barely reach around the rolls of chest flab to even attempt to lift your monstrosity of a stomach. You look about, and spy the cart with the tray of cookies on it. That may work. You slowly turn, having to sift your bulk little buy little just to turn the direction you want to go. Taking a sideways approach, you drag your weight over to the cart. Then you take a breath, and reach down as far as you can to pull your flab off the ground, feeling your rolls bunch up painfully before finally you feel your belly lift away from the cold floor. It is hard to lift it that high, but you force it, feeling your legs burn from the effort to support it, but finally you pull it high enough where you flop it onto the cart. There is a crunch as the first shelf buckles under the weight, but stops as it collides with the lower shelf, keeping your stomach from falling back to the ground.

You then test out your mobility, and take a few careful steps forward. The wheels squeak, but the cart moves, the pressure on it keeping it from rolling out away from you, and the wheels turning in place, allowing you to turn without if falling over. You'll have to watch out when you come to stairs, but at least now your mobile enough to get around. But what now?

Written by an anonymous author

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