Sun., May 24.  Well, it seems I've gained nine pounds in the last two weeks I've been exercising less and eating more. Including "comfort-food" snacks while I read in the evening. (Well heck, more honestly, "some" potato chips and cheese curls before the sliced apple. And then some "forbidden" pastry after that .)
 
I am (or have been.) height-weight proportionate (6' 1" and usually 185 pounds. (Biggest I ever got was 205 a few years ago.) Now, recently above 190, and-oops, yesterday, 196!). Except that all my fat is locating itself in-you guessed it, my apple-shaped Stomach area. And my Stomach is getting Fat again. It's becoming that large Beer-Gut Belly which gets a mind of its own and has decided to "multiply" or at least to expand and protrude.
 
But this time, I curiously don't seem to mind the re-gaining? --As I look at my "teetotaler's Beer Gut," I am "supposed" to feel inconvenience, disgust or at least rueful dislike that the "six-pak" is becoming a nice rounded "quarter-barrel." --So why am I feeling real pleasure in seeing my Gutsy Stomach as a (or the) center of pleasures. It's affirming its own (and my own?) values like "Appetite, Passion, Self-Indulgence, lack of Self-Control." (How immature, irresponsible, self-indulgent of fleshy fun. But how-pleasurable, satisfying.)
 
And so I'll bet my Stomach is not only going to get Fat again, it's going to STAY Fat again.  And I feel "helpless" to reduce it smaller-or even to "hold it down," to keep it at the same size as right now. (Just as I can't any longer "hold it in" when I'm out in public...) But I now feel not frustration or chagrin, but rather acceptance. And more; yesterday I noticed that it even seems "sexy." (Submission to "bondage and discipline" even?!) My stomach moving in and taking over my midsection, I as unable to reduce it or suck it in and keep it trim. I better just exhale, let the flesh proclaim itself, and "enjoy it." It's moving in, sitting in my lap, always with me when I turn bend and lift. But increasingly welcome. I remember the big belly at 205 pounds; wonder what I might look and feel like at, say, 215 pounds? Pretty distended, swollen-pretty enriched, enhanced. It's sexy to think of just surrendering to it. Of no more controlling it: no halting its increase, even hiding-or-concealing it. And willingly, as I (and everyone else) watch myself increase.!
 
 And so I bet I know what's going to happen soon-since the summer is approaching, with "T-shirt and shorts" weather.  I'll just "have" to display my big Stomach right out in public.
--First, I'll unwisely put on my old boy-sized gym shorts-fine except that their too-tight waistband immediately binds, and hence makes my big Gut protrude globe-like even more, the overhang just shouting "Indulgence Out Of Control!"
-- Then, I'll equally-ill-advisedly slip on my left-over boy-sized T-shirt-fine, except that it is too short, can't cover the "basketball" or "globe," hence leaves my big Belly uncovered even more, to create inches of "bare midriff" which exposes the big swollen Balloon-gut fully,  the overtaxed shirt riding right up to the belly button itself. The logo is kind of fun-"YMCA Day Camp," if I was a counselor wearing this, everyone would cheer and jeer my protruding gut.
 
-- And it does protrude!.Being so rounded, the bottom part of it extends out front from the straining waist-band almost horizontally, like the overhang of a cliff which no mountaineer could scramble up! This is no big gut belted in mid-way by tent-like trousers or shorts. No; this stomach proclaims itself, escaping right over the waist-band which it buries. The waist-band which is stretched to its "high-school-boy"-sized limits, which constricts-and-binds the big stomach less "cruelly" than "cradling." All the better to present it on its own platform. "Now I can really feel how big a stomach I really have."
 
.Maybe this stomach "too big" also too-nakedly displayed, seems, well, "un-masculine." Like, he's lost control and is too fleshy, like women. But it's also "powerful" in a way. Proclaiming, "I have appetite! I like food and I like my big generous stomach too, as the seat of animal passion of all kinds! And I increasingly have no option but to display this!" (So heck, maybe "a man's gotta do what he's gotta do" and just take the consequences.)
 
And so, dressed (or under-dressed) in my "sunsuit" thus, with my midsection on display over the tight waistband (in the reverse of a girdle), and also skin-exposed by the floating shirt, I'll surely walk down State St. in Madison. (That's the main drag of the college town. So I'm ambling right amid all the sexy students, but they're of course slim, and also the fellow professors, but they're of course more trim .).
 
--And the pedestrians will observe this Big Gut on parade. Some will stare and smile amusedly at me. As if I'm some "pathetic specimen, a juvenile adult" or the like? Innocent but also un-self-controlled? (Well, let it rip. The "tragedy" (or is it the turn-on) is that gosh, "I just can't help this-and at last I don't really want to."  And some of the hot teenage kids may even mock and tease me verbally. ("Hey, put some clothes on!!!")
 
But if I'm supposed to be ashamed and embarrassed, why do I now feel so erotic about it also? I know what's going to happen. Parading down the street porting my abdomen, I may well (1) "experience erotic arousal." Heck, why mince words, I'll probably find I'm (2) "obtaining a definite penile erection." Heck, say it loud, I'm going to (3) "get a roaring hard-on." But it's not just my cock in its constricting shorts. It's also my Stomach itself, also firm and hard and enlarging, is feeling like a sexual organ (or at least valuable body part). Properly on display and indeed enjoying itself to the sexy tunes of "appetite, passion, self-indulgence, generous sensuality"? (As if to say, "True, I can't control my expanding belly.but you can't grow and enjoy a powerfully-pleasurable one like it either, can you?")
 
The skimpy T-shirt does cover below the navel, but then as I move, oops it rides up exposing the fleshy overhang. The gym shorts ride low, the waistband buried under the protruding abdomen. If plumbers "moon" people with their butt-cracks showing, I may be "sunning" people with my vast stomach shining forth. Plus a bare midriff all around-less embarrassing, feminine, more just proclaiming the pleasures of the big generous midsection.
 
So I'll parade my pleasure-loving gut I'm getting truly stuck with. Which I can't conceal (even if I dressed more properly). Which I can't reduce, I now realize. Which I don't want to reduce, Which I don't have to reduce, which I can let grow generously larger and larger, to become a center of Pleasure for myself. Who needs the hot dudes on State Street, except in memory as I later go home and Take Care of Myself-Me and my Belly-very nicely through appreciative massage with a mirror nearby.