Uma peered sullenly into the fitting room mirror, cradling her doughy paunch in her hands. When she let go, it jiggled and recoiled like jello before quickly coming to rest in the same rounded spot as before. Dammit. This was gonna take some work.
She grabbed a pair of pink leggings from the pile of clothing on the bench and pulled them up her chunky thighs and dense butt. They felt pretty good… When she pulled them up over her belly, they didn't leave much of a muffin top, thankfully. Good. Good. This was good. The matching pink sports bra fit perfectly, too. Good support for the girls up top, though they weren't much of a problem these days. She jogged in place in front of the mirror for a moment, paying attention to how she looked. The material of the leggings were dense enough to keep her ass and thighs under control, and her belly wasn't too much of a problem. She thought to herself that she was lucky she had a beer gut instead of some big, wobbling thing like other fat girls had. She looked good. At least, as good as she could have looked. She still looked fat, but she looked like a fatty who was on a diet, who was exercising, who was working on her fitness. Who would be dropping all of this weight in no time.
Uma was sick. She was sick of coming home from work every night feeling like shit, sick of being a fatass, and sick of going absolutely nowhere in her life. It was time to get it together, and she had realized the first step in doing that: bringing back exercise. It was her balance. Her life came crashing down as soon as she stopped working out, and she was never gonna get back to where she was without putting the gym back in her life. Transportation was a problem, but she had ideas. At this point, she'd really do anything to turn her bubble gut and bubble butt back to the toned masses of muscle they once were. It was the only way.
Uma changed back into her t-shirt and sweatpants, gathered up the clothes into her arms (she had yellow and navy blue outfits in the same size as well), strode up to the checkout, and popped out her credit card with a smile on her face.
—
Meanwhile, back at the townhouse, Reagan groggily muffled her face with one of the couch pillows. Somebody was mowing the lawn outside. She was hungover and it was too early for this. It was 12:30.
Last night had turned into something of a rager for Chel and Reagan, but especially Reagan. Chel got a bit tipsy off some brewskis and owned a bunch of people at pool, which was probably a crazier night out than she's had in a very long time, but Reagan?
"Hey, can I do a marg and some cheese fries?"
"Hey, another marg, more cheese fries?"
"Heyyy, can I do… a long island iced tea? Cheese fries too?"
"Heyyyyy… URRP. Lemme… fuck. I wanna burger. Cheesy fries. Long ice island tea. Maybe… onion rings?"
"What do you mean you're cutting me- OOURP off? I'm hot! I'm thirsty! I haven't had THAT much! …can I still order food?"
The last thing she remembers is asking two guys whether her ass or a pair of basketballs from the basketball game was bigger. Next thing she knew, she was on the living room couch sans cute jeans, big butt straight up and waiting to be playfully spanked by an ogling roommate. Ohhhh god…
And as if the guy mowing wasn't bad enough, in came Uma, slamming the door per usual, stomping across the living room floor per usual, swatting her roommate's jiggly ass as she walked by. "Morning sunshine!" she said as she spanked. She really couldn't resist. How could she?
Reagan groaned in response. "Don't smack my ass… I'm hungover… You don't got permission…"
"I couldn't resist. How could I?" She stopped on the stairs and turned around to admire her roommate's cake.
Reagan smacked her dry lips. "Very easily…" Yaaaaawn. "Fuck, dude… I'm fucked. This is fucked up…"
Uma walked back down the stairs. "Big night last night I see."
"Yeah… Me and Chel went to that bar with the arcade. I had, like, a thousand margaritas. And a thousand cheese fries…" Realization hit the half-dozing drunkard as she put a hand on a mostly bare butt cheek. "Where my pants?"
"Uhh…" Uma gazed around the room briefly and saw them bunched up across from her. She picked them up. "These them?"
Reagan craned her neck so she could see better. "Yeah. I think…"
Uma made a quick inspection. "Oh, there's no button on these."
"Ffffuuuuck… Really?"
"Yeah."
Reagan was hit by a hazy image of her button ripping off and pinging against the metal bar as she took a bite of her burger. "God dammit…" She was too hungover to be disappointed. All she knew was that she wanted to go back to sleep.
Reagan eyed the paper shopping bag in the crook of Uma's pudgy arm. "Bag?"
"Oh, yeah." She removed a pair of leggings. "I got some gym clothes. I'm gonna start going again."
Uh oh. Alarm bells started ringing in Reagan's head, louder than that asshole outside with his lawnmower. That woke her up. She lifted her head a little bit. "Why? Why are you gonna do that?"
"Caaause I'm tired of being fat? I miss it? Why do you care?"
"I, uh, I'm just surprised. I thought you were done." Reagan had gotten used to how easy the operation had become. With Uma spending so much time at work around that food, her fattening antics practically antic-ed themselves. She didn't want to have to TRY again! Ugh. This morning kept on getting worse.
"Ya know, actually…" Uma sat down in the armchair across from Reagan. "You wanna be my gym buddy? I need someone to drive me over there, and you just bust your button off your jeans last night. What do you say? Sounds like you could use it."
There was that old Uma shining through again. Ughhhhh. Now she had to make a choice.
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