Yes Chelsea, Part 15 (Patreon)

*Olivia Collins, age 37


“Yes Chelsea, you look fine. Now let’s GO.”

(1-2)


Greg decided to surprise the family with a beach trip over the weekend, and while I was overjoyed, my darling deadbeat daughter was less than enthused. Honestly, I can’t say that I’m surprised given how much weight she’s gained and how much emphasis she puts on her appearance. For a while, she was on a huge body positivity kick and insisted that her “mom bod” was super in and a progressive way to attract the wholesome, family-oriented men of today. Of course it was only after her time dating a guy who kept trying to get her to gain more weight for him that she realized that she wasn’t some new age icon; she was just attracting chubby chasers and feeders.
Since then, I’ve noticed that she’s much less daring in her outfits and has finally begun trying to raise her daughter instead of pawning her off on me to do it for her. With the baby taken care of, I’ve been free to enjoy myself more and get back to doing what I want to do. Exercise has gone from something I used to feel the need to keep up on in order to not be some flabby hag and more of a regular habit. I feel better than I have in years, though lately I’ve noticed little signs of aging creeping in and I’m not overly excited for that. Even despite that, this last weekend made me feel much better about my appearance.


We hit the beach and the weather was absolutely perfect. I got the pleasure of splashing around in my brand new bikini as my new hubby ogled the living hell out of me. And it wasn’t just him. Just walking around on the pier, I was turning so many heads left and right that I thought Greg was going to be upset. Nope. If anything, he was showing me off. Several times I got a little shy and tried to cover up while ordering at a food vendor or watching a street performance, but every time I did, he’d slap my ass and whisper into my ear to put my hands down. It was super hot and very, VERY appreciated. I gotta say, I definitely don’t mind playing the hot trophy wife if it means I’m going to feel and look this good all the time.


Chelsea on the other hand, was as shy as a mouse in a cat factory. Gone are the days of two pieces and tanned belly buttons for my daughter. This time I couldn’t get her to go out in anything more daring than a simple pink top and a pair of black shorts from when I was fat, and even then she was spilling out of them. Before, it was *her* that would be getting all the attention and horny stares as she wiggled her tight body up and down the boardwalk, but now it was damn near impossible to get her out from under the umbrella. I asked her several times if she wanted to take Tori down to play in the water, but she just put on a big , fake smile and said she was just cooling off. Really, I knew she was just embarrassed to be seen as she was and I say again with decreasing guilt that I kind of love it.


I felt so insecure because of her in the past and never really realized it until her survival wasn’t my sole responsibility. But now she’s getting a taste of her own medicine and it's gorgeous. Now she’s the one with the massive, wobbling thighs and a baby stuck to her hip while *I* am fit and skinny and making all the boys hard just by walking past them in my sexy, skimpy little outfits. While she’s hiding her double chin under a giant hat and sunglasses or waddling around with her big fat belly apron stuffed into my old, high-waisted mom-shorts, I get to strut around in bikinis and show off for a man who’s more than proud of his hot wife.


Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that the meat I packed for sandwiches almost made me puke, it would have been the perfect day.

*Chelsea Richter, age 22


“Of course I’m going to stick with it, can I just get the money please?”


(3-4)


I’m over it.
I’m over being boring. I’m over being fat. I’m over being tired and lethargic all the time.
I’m tired of watching tv all day. I’m tired of watching my friends and parents going out and having a good time while I sit around on my ass watching a baby. And fuck me, I’m TIRED of watching the numbers on the scale go up every time I get on it.
I’m sick of only getting dates from guys with fat fetishes.
I’m sick of people thinking my mom is my younger sister.


I’m sick of my life, and as much as my daughter means the whole world to me, I’m sick, tired, and absolutely OVER being nothing but a mommy 24/7.
My parents took me and Tori to the beach the other day and that was just the last straw. I used to LOVE the beach. But that was when I was skinny and pretty and didn’t have an ass that was too big for 2XL shorts. I know it’s not my mom’s fault for losing weight and turning her life around, but holy shit she was acting like a total slut the entire time and her new husband Greg was just eating it all up!


I genuinely don’t know what’s worse: Feeling like a prisoner in this flabby, obese body or watching my own mother live the happy life I wish I had at 22 when she’s almost 40 years old. I swear, sometimes it’s like we traded lives the moment she started going to the gym. I still dye my hair and dress in black or whatever. I even still watch spoopy vampire shows but honestly it’s just something I do to pass the time now. I’m just… over it. 


That’s why I asked my mom to reinstate my gym membership. I told her it was time that I took my life back and got down to my pre-baby weight and I feel like she put up a weird amount of resistance, but in the end she agreed to do it. Sometimes I swear that woman just wants to keep me fat so she can feel hotter by comparison, but it’s like….that’s fucking weird and kinda toxic, you know? She kept telling me that she didn’t think I had the willpower to keep going to the gym or she’d ask me who was going to watch Tori and I was just like fuck it, I’ll just keep her next to me or something. Plus, if things got to be too much, I could just use some of the equipment we have here since she and Greg practically have their own home gym.


…..But she DEFINITELY didn’t like THAT. The idea that I would fuck with her regular workout machines and get thinner without leaving the house really seemed to bother her, and I’m pretty sure that that’s the main reason why she agreed to pay for my gym membership. It’s shit like that that makes me feel like she’s actively against me losing weight, but just not saying anything. One minute she is supportive and love-bombing the shit out of me, and the next she’s just super passive aggressive and distant.


Oh well, she can gripe all she wants. I don’t know if it’s just me or something is just under her skin, but the bitchy emotional bullshit isn’t going to stop me from being who I really feel is the real me. God, I already feel like I’m a teenager again trying to get away from who my mom wants to turn me into.