la mia storia
It all started almost like a game on January 28th. Looking at myself in the mirror, those 64.5 kg felt like the reflection of someone I no longer recognized. I had admired feederism for years, but now it was time for me to become the protagonist. The plan was simple: eat in secret, in the dead of night, while the rest of the house slept. By February, the scale read 66 kg. In March, 68. But in April, something exploded. In just one month, I ballooned up to 73 kg. My belly, once flat, began to protrude, but the real shock was my hips. They widened and softened, becoming the perfect target for the pressure of my jeans, which now struggle to button up. Yesterday, I made the decisive trip to Conad. The black Adidas backpack in my closet has become my personal vault: 1.4 kg of Gocciole cookies, a massive 700g jar of Nutella, and dark chocolate. More than 11,000 calories ready to be transformed into mass. Every night, the scene repeats itself. I pull a pack of cookies from the hiding spot and begin the ritual. I use the cookies as spoons, dipping them deep into the thick, creamy Nutella. Every bite is a mix of crunch and sweetness that slides right down to where it needs to go. I feel my stomach stretching, bloating under the weight of that caloric surplus. It’s a subtle thrill: knowing that while I rest, my body is working to expand my boundaries. This morning, looking at my profile, I saw my first trophies: pink stretch marks marking my hips and thighs. They are like battle scars from a war won against thinness. I love them. They are proof that my skin can no longer contain my growth. Today, I reached 75 kg. Summer is just around the corner, and the fear of being judged at the beach is real, but the obsession with seeing how far I can push myself is stronger. The mirage of 80 kg is right there, within reach, hidden at the bottom of that Nutella jar. I won’t stop until every button is a challenge and every mirror reflects a guy who has finally decided to take up all the space he deserves.