eat so much i make my innie an outie

i will put out a half inch

i wanna do this, i would be huge! to tell u the truth i am 12 i weigh 200pounds and i dont care i do wa i want! wat eva i do wa i want! right now my belly button reaches to my first bend of my index finger so im almost there!

i love to stuff my belly

I could never do this. I was born with an outie instead of an innie. I guess all I could do was eat until it stuck out more.

For years I had been a medium weight individual with a slight paunch and an “innie” belly button. Then during the year 2000 I endured serious bouts of low self esteem as I compared myself to my peers. They were always endowed with great career successes and loving spouses. I decided to turn to food for solace. I became a daily denizen of local iconic fast food eateries and buffet retaurants. My morning fare would typically comprise 10 pancakes, syrup and sausages; lunch would be no fewer than six large hamburgers, fries, apple pie or cheesecake and soda; I would down a 12-inch pizza in the late afternoon and for supper, I would have fried chicken, pasta with grated parmesian, chocolate cake and a home-made milkshake.

This went on seven days a week for five years with the only variations being the contents of each of my typical four daily meals; i.e. some days I would have Chinese or four 12-inch sandwiches at one sitting.
The result of this five year binge-fest was that by 2005 I had nearly tripled my original 2000 body weight of 150 lbs. My upper arms grew to 10 inches in diameter; instead of a slight paunch I came to have this gargantuan sack of lard in front of me which my acquaintances call the “super-belly” without exaggeration.
Because of the enormity of my belly I had some serious wardrobe issues. I went to the stores and bought the largest garments which were available. However, I could not button my shirts below my chest and tee-shirts would always ride up to three inches above my belly button. So I just decided to not care about the imminent disparaging remarks of others and just live to eat.
One morning at my work place, I went into the cafeteria for a mid morning bite where I was confronted by my boss’s secretary. Derisively she asked me how far along I was. She then plunged her index finger into my belly button. She had these long, sharp finger-nail extensions and upon withdrawing her finger she inadvertently sliced the lower skin of my belly button, something which escaped me until a coworker noticed that a thin line of blood was dripping from my belly button onto the floor.

A family tragedy in early 2006 caused me to spend twice as much time at all my favorite local buffet restaurants as before.

I did not feel when it happened, but as I stood in front of my bathroom mirror one night after leaving the Home Town Buffet, I noticed that my belly button had popped out to over one inch in length!! My doctor informed me that I DID NOT have a hernia, but that the outie was a result of undue stretching of the skin on my belly. Since my belly is always exposed, it makes no sense for me to tape down this outie, so it is there for the world to jeer over.

Of lately, I have been trying to lose the super-belly so that my belly button can sink back in to an innie. People, total strangers, have come up to me and completely without provocation, have punched me in the gut aiming at my outie.

The only use for my super-belly (which hangs out two feet from my chest) is as to use it like a sack of flour to whallop some cheeky person. Invariably, the “super-belly” becomes a literal punching bags as was the case when I had a verbal altercation with some inner-city girls recently.

I’ve been working on my capacity for awhile now (I can almost finish two fast food meals, or almost finish an appetizer, entree, and dessert at a sit-down restaurant), but my belly button still hasn’t changed. Looks like I need to work harder!