"...not to mention your old lady managed to pull a few strings this year..."
'Huff!'
"...saw some extra space in your schedule some days, so I got you a double lunch break and a meal extension for brunch and for dinner..."
'Sigh...'
"...most girls don't get Tier 3 perks without a physical first, but my Lizzie isn't most girls..."
'Hmm,'
"...a reward for being such a perfect daughter!"
'Argh!'
"Oh, would you cut it out, Lizzie dear? If the car ride is too stressful you can always help yourself to a snack. I have some more brownies in the back seat."
Elizabeth "Lizzie" Thompson leaned over toward the passenger side window and pressed her cheek into the glass as she stared out toward the rolling countryside. This had been the scene for the past two hours now. Stuck in a car while her doting mother ranted and raved about the upcoming year, all the while wishing that she was headed in any other direction than Buttercombe.
"I'm... more than familiar with where the brownies are, Mom, thanks," she replied, staring out the window with a laser focus now. In truth, the brownies were exactly part of the problem. With the windows up, there was nowhere for the smell to escape to except up the nostrils of the listless passenger and nowhere for the confections to escape to except her plump, paunchy pot belly. 3/4ths of the "little snack" that Ms Thompson had decided to "bring for the ride in case anybody gets hungry!" (anybody obviously meaning her daughter) had already found its way past Lizzie's lips. And two whole trays of 25 brownies each was hardly a little...
But Lizzie really, really couldn't help herself. Lizzie ate when she was stressed (or when she was tired, or when she was cranky, or when she was offered) and nothing, nothing could possibly spell out stress like the impressive practically castle-like grandiosity of the Buttercombe Estate finally looming into view.
Most people didn't have the "privilege" of getting to drive up to the private academy with their parents, but Lizzie's mom served dual roles in her life as overbearing (s)mother and as the newly appointed head of the culinary arts department at Buttercombe, a position that Lizzie was... begrudgingly proud of her mom for acquiring.
'She'd better,' Lizzie had inwardly fumed upon finding out. 'An entire summer of taste testing better not have been for nothing.'
"Oh, Honey, try this linguini with flaky cheddar on top! After you're done with your fettuccine alfredo, of course," her mother had cooed.
"Ooh ooh sweetheart! Which cupcake do you like better? Make sure you try them both."
"Oh. My. Gosh. Sugar Booger, this flan is absolutely divine. Here! Have some more!"
And every time Lizzie would whine and prevaricate and sulk... then pretty much give in.
"Sigh... You know I was supposed to start my diet today but whatever."
"Mom, I'm really full already, I- is that whipped topping?"
"No Mommy, my pants don't fit anymore and I need to- mmmm that smells delicious. Did you just make it?"
That entire summer of taste testing was certainly evident on her physique. Ending her sophomore year at just 225 pounds, Lizzie had sworn the vow to end all vows that she would get her weight under control over the summer, or at least manage not to gain so much. Starting off her junior year at over 260 was a cruel wake up call that she had been putting on weight even faster than usual. And this damn school was sure to be absolutely no help.
She had remembered hugging her dad goodbye on the front porch just hours earlier. A jovial man himself, much like his wife, he had given her a firm squeeze on her soft shoulder.
"Careful they don't have to roll you back home this year, pudgy pie," he had guffawed.
"Daaaaaad," Lizzie had whined, stomping her foot petulantly and sending her thick thighs jiggling.
"David!" Her mother had sashayed out the door past him and gave him a stern, disapproving look, one of the few times her face ever formed a frown. "We don't want our daughter feeling self-conscious on her big day back."
"Oh, I'm only Haha," he laughed, barely even able to get through his own joke, "Ha-hoping she follows in the Thompson footsteps," he grinned, giving his own stunningly fat middle a swat. Ms Thompson was a woman with a passion and a real gift for cooking, and that was certainly evident on the frames of her loved ones. Dave Thompson's entire body shook as he chuckled at his own lame sense of humor.
Lizzie had to stifle an embarrassed smile. She swore, her dad was the only person on Earth who was even cheesier than her mom. A match made in Heaven.
But his point still stood, Lizzie had been unfailingly coming back fatter and fatter every year and with all of the "strings and connections" having a Culinary Arts teacher for a mother netted her, she was sincerely worried that this year wouldn't be any different. Not that Lizzie actually needed any help, though.
Lizzie and her willpower had had a bit of a falling out lately, and try as it might to plead with her, remind her how much farther her belly and butt were sticking out or how much wider her hips always seemed to be getting, Elizabeth would listen instead to her sharp cravings and her insatiable tummy.
Said tummy was looking less like a "tummy" and more like a "belly" as of late, pooching out over her seatbelt and into her lap. Lizzie gave it a frustrated jiggle. She didn't tend to gain too much weight in her stomach and wasn't a fan of seeing it start to look more like a "Thompson Belly", as her dad called it. Lizzie's primary concern was her lower half: her ever fleshier cheeks, her ever widening hips, her ever thickening thighs... Her little pot belly sticking out farther than usual might have had something to do with the roughly 30+ brownies she had been cramming down her throat out of anxiety during the whole ride up here. Those on top of the two Number 7s her mother had been so kind to stop for at Big Bob's Best Burgers and and the hearty "going away breakfast" she had consumed before even leaving the house. She knew from experience that her tummy would soon shrink back down to a more reasonable size, the bloat instead traveling downward to fill out her proportionally enormous hips to an even more ludicrous degree.
Of course, Lizzie had done plenty of fretting over how much she had eaten that day but what worried her an even greater degree was that she still wanted even more. The scent of the remaining brownies was calling ever so sweetly to the plump coed and she was trying with every bit of her will not to leap into the back seat and tear them all apart.
Their garish teal SUV pulled up to the great gates of Buttercombe Academy, gates that, although ancient and prestigious-looking, at once began to open electronically, as if to silently usher them in.
Lizzie, at this point, had given in and fetched another brownie from behind her as she surveyed her official surroundings for the next few months. Not much looked to have changed. Having arrived early than most other students with her mother, the usual bustle about the academy had yet to take full swing.
Finishing the brownie in just two bites, she furtively pinched a love handle and sighed, 'I really have to go easy this year,' she thought to herself.
But that was the thing with this place. It just honestly seemed like there was food everywhere. Every hallway you turned there was a vending machine or even two luring students and faculty alike over with flashy displays and scintillating treats. Outside, the campus was dotted with a myriad of different outdoor kiosks and food stands. Classes themselves had no rules against snacking and her mother had mentioned earlier double lunch periods. Lizzie blanched at the thought; it was almost like her mother was trying to fatten her up sometimes. In truth, she wasn't; Ms Thompson just loved to dote on her "perfect little angel" and didn't seem to understand the difference between "comfort" and "comfort food", her natural inclination toward cooking and baking meant that they were her go-to for just about every problem. It was a wonder Lizzie hadn't blown up sooner. Or, as her dad had put it, "followed in the family footsteps".
Lizzie looked over at her mother as she pulled the car to a stop. It was easy to see the resemblance. Dana Thompson was a remarkably pretty woman and so was her daughter. They had the same golden blonde hair, although Dana wore hers a bit shorter and normally had it done up, the same deep blue eyes, the same angular face and soft chin. They had the same laugh, which Lizzie absolutely hated; Lizzie could easily pass for her mother's mini-me. Well, except for the "mini" part.
Other than their striking resemblance to one another, the two women were of drastically different sizes. While Lizzie was quite a bit overweight at just north of 260 pounds, Dana Thompson was...
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