For most of Delaney’s life, her mother hadn’t allowed more than two kinds of “junk” in the house—and even then, they tended to be the “boring” kind of junk.
Fruit snacks, Rice Krispy’s treats, and (once they became readily available) the sad little Oreo cookies that had like half of the crème filling had been the go-to indulgences of the Bailey household for literally as long as either of them could remember. Despite there being no official rule in place, it was understood that Donna would handily dispose of anything that she deemed “too dangerous” to keep in the house, sometimes with a little laugh and sometimes not.
Surely, Donna thought now that her daughter was in college and making her own decisions, it was time for a little wiggle room.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she had come to realize her mistake.
Donna had always been thickset—it was just how the women in her family had been built. Broad-shouldered and deep chested with wide hips and thick legs, she could have lost a hundred pounds and never have been a size six. Sitting in at an over/under of one hundred and eighty pounds, Donna had learned over time to come to terms with the fact that with her body structure (plus the loose skin that came with her initial weight loss, not to mention just getting older) meant that she was always going to be a little on the heavy side.
That being said, she had come a long way from the nearly four-hundred-pound high school senior, a long way from being Double-Wide Donna, and she had practically crawled tooth and nail to get there.
Getting under 200 pounds had been hard—getting back up over it had been easy.
With the sudden reintroduction of cakes, pies, and cookies back into the tightly guarded fortress that was her home, Donna found herself in a losing battle against her own appetite. Donna’s resolve had grown soft over the years that she had refrained from direct confrontation with temptation, and now that she had come into a steady surplus of sweets made in her own kitchen she was unable to keep herself steeled in the face of all things sweet and tasty.
Her soft stomach hung over the band of her panties, falling to rest gently on the crotch and rolling outwards to either side in the form of two handfuls of squishy side fat. Old paled stretch marks from her previously prodigious side spread out just a bit further than Donna remembered as her tummy sloshed from side to side, her saddlebag thighs and chunky hips spreading out further and wider in her last good pair of underwear.
The holidays were enough of an excuse for anyone to gain weight; and there had been much celebration since Delaney had graduated, so it had been easy enough for Donna’s expansion to slip her mind. But by the end of her daughter’s first semester in college, just a few months into relaxing her rules about snacking in the house, she was back up to two hundred pounds.
Now, come February, she was up to two fifteen—she had gained thirty-five pounds over the course of just a few months, putting her at the heaviest that she had been since Delaney was born more than eighteen years ago!
Donna squished a pinch of her excess belly blubber between her thick forefinger and thumb, wincing at the pain as her sensitive stomach dared to gurgle for something sweet to snack on. Even now, the smell of whatever Delaney had popped into the oven was making her mouth water.
Quickly changing into a set of post-work flop clothes, baggy for the precise reason of masking her recent weight gain, Donna exited her bedroom half-expecting her fat hips to catch the doorways like they used to when she was her daughter’s age. The smell of her mother’s cooking in the house, the tightness of her clothes, the little tingle she felt in the nape of her neck whenever she thought too hard about whatever was in the kitchen that she wasn’t eating… it all felt so familiar to her, and something had to be done about it soon.
“Laney, honey?” she called out down the hallway, “Can I talk to you for a sec—"
“Hey mama, what do you think about this?”
Delaney had asked the question almost as soon as she’d seen her mother’s head of curly brown hair in the hallway, spooning a sip of cake batter into Donna’s already poised-to-parent mouth with an expectant look on her face. Caught by surprise, her mother’s finely-honed instincts told her to taste, assess and swallow without so much as a chance to disagree.
“Well, it’s a little too sweet.” She said with a smack of her lips, “When your grandma used to make this, it—”
She paused, a small look of surprise overtaking her furrowed brow.
“Oh, ohhh! It has an undertaste!” Donna smiled, “Laney, that’s very good!”
“Thanks!” Delaney sheepishly kicked her foot as she withdrew the spoon and bowl, “I was playing around with it and… well, no offense to Grandma but…”
Listening to Delaney talk, it was clear that she was passionate about what she was doing here. Even if it was doing a number on her kitchen. And her waistline. How could Donna ever tell her daughter that she was doing something wrong when it was her fault for not having any self-control?
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