The official registering me stared down at the photo my mother had handed him. After a solid 2 minutes he looked up at her perplexed.
"Ma'am," he was clearly choosing his words carefully, "you do know this is the Mr Big & Proud registration day don't you?"
My mother was confused. "Of course, that's why we're... Oh! The photo!" she laughed. The website had specifically requested the correct identification as well as a 'glamour' shot. Mum had just used the best photo she could find. "It's uh... well it was taken almost a year ago..."
The official took another look at the photo of the somewhat chubby young man, maybe 180lbs, before casting his eyes to where my mother was gesturing. There I was in all my lardy glory, shorts and wife beater spilling out rolls, ordering an ice cream across the park. I was gigantic, wide ass, huge tits, saggy gut and humongous thighs. I had spend most of my waking hours over the past 9 months gorging myself and turning a small fortune in snacks into delicious body fat. As I waddled my huge body wobbled like the ocean in a storm. When the official had stared at my face long enough that he could match it to my photo (I was now engulfed in a whole heap of chins) I had no trouble applying.
"I hope all this was worth it," my mother nagged, grabbing and jiggling my gut for added effect.
"Thanks mummy!" I managed cheerfully between mouthfuls, too obese to fight her intrusive hands off.
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