r/TalesofFatHate ~ nov 2014 ================ A Cautionary Tale About Belly Rings (self.TalesofFatHate) submitted 29 days ago by redridesthewolf I figured I'd share a particularly mortifying tale that took place during my second year in college. I apologize if my stories are really long, I'm trying to cut down but it's hard since I write in my spare time and I'm used to a lot of exposition. It was during the spring semester in an obnoxiously humid city in my state. The kind of humid where you step outside and in five minutes you are drenched in sweat. Permanent swamp ass even if you're the twiggiest of twigs. I was in an Advanced Drawing II class, but the professor was almost never there. His wife was in hospice so all of his time was spent taking care of her and he would email us when he was going to be there to critique our projects or assign us new stuff. In other words, no one ever showed up unless they knew he was going to be there. I was one of three people that actually did show up because I had the most obnoxious roommates ever and wanted a quiet place to work. (Some quick context, these art buildings were literally white metal sheds and super small. The desks we had were the kind you could adjust, but were really wonky and hard to use and always in groups of four.) The second person was a guy always wearing a trilby. We never spoke but always sat together at the same four desks in the back of the room. The third thing (I refuse to class this creature as a person) was an obnoxious eatbeast that always smelled like a gym bag full of spoiled meat. Because of the humidity, she was always drenched in sweat and wearing cut off blue jean shorts that displayed her cottage cheese thighs, tank or crop tops that her fupa ALWAYS escaped from, and was always on her fucking cellphone. (There was a Starbucks on my campus that was right next to the art sheds and the Forensic Science building. This will be relevant.) She always, ALWAYS sat at our table. Trilby Guy hated this girl, I could see it in his eyes when he would side glance at her. She would make a big fuss over adjusting the desk to accommodate her girth until she would just let the desk's edge sink in between her rolls. I never saw a fucking sketchbook with this girl. Ever. She just used the room to talk or text on her phone for an hour and a half or she would slurp at the two, TWO, Venti caramel frappucinos she would bring with her. She would waddle off when she finished them and come back with two more. It made me sick and I couldn't go into Starbucks for a while due to flashbacks of her puffy cheeks streaked with sweat as she sucked down mouthfuls of sugar and syrup, her eyes rolling in ecstasy every goddamn time. She didn't show up every week and I always prayed internally she would stay away, but sometimes she decided to make the trip, fuck knows why. One day I showed up a little late, not that it mattered, and Trilby Guy was already there working. I set up my desk and started to work and forty-five minutes passed with no sign of Frappy Ham. The second I felt relief, she showed up, literally slamming the door open and gabbing on her phone. I was internally screaming and could see Trilby Guy visibly clench his jaw in rage. She had her usual two drinks and Trilby Guy and I were privy to her disgusting conversation with what I assumed was her boyfriend on other end as she was hinting that she wanted to fuck in the parking lot after class. I had to swallow my vomit when the imagery assaulted my mind. She kept giggling and Trilby Guy was finally at the end of his rope. He told her to shut the fuck up, no one cares about her gross sex life. She stared at him in shock then told her boyfriend she'd call later, some asshole was bullying (lol whut) her. She told Trilby Guy to mind his own business, all while she was adjusting the desk and wedging her fat rolls into place. I sat there in quiet yet gleeful silence to watch their exchange. He told her to get the fuck out of the room unless she was going to work or sit at another table because all she did was fidget and shake our desks while we were trying to work. She told him to fuck off, that anyone could use the room. He kept reiterating that the room was meant for students to work, but she continued on her tirade that she could do whatever she wanted. Trilby Guy was clearly done since it was impossible to argue with a brick wall and made a comment again about not wanting to hear about her sex life. She said he was just jealous and he looked at her with the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever seen. I am not making this up, I swear to god, this is exactly what he said because I've never been able to forget it. "I thought bestiality was illegal in this state." She lost her shit and screamed at him all while trying to stand up from the table and let out a scream so loud I swear my ears were ringing for a week. She was clutching her fupa and crying. The edges of the desk had a thin metal shelf for holding sketchbooks or what have you in place and her bellybutton ring had been caught on it. She had ripped it out in an attempt to free her rolls. I didn't want to be part of what happened after that, so I threw everything into my bag and left the room. I assume she dropped the class because I never saw her in the room again, but I did see her in the Starbucks a few times. She still bought those fucking frappes. ----- MsAlign I'm a pharmacist, a profession I decided on because I find health care interesting while disliking touching people and looking at gross things (which is why becoming a doctor was out). I work in retail and therefore get people who regularly want my advice (something I enjoy doing) and periodically want me to look at their diseased body parts (something I dislike intensely). Many years ago, when I was still a fairly young pharmacist, a teenaged girl came in. Very overweight. She started asking me questions about care for piercings. The guy who had done the piercing told her to put zinc cream on it and she wanted to know where in the store that was. I was dubious about the benefits of zinc cream. After a bit of back and forth, she said she thought her piercing might be infected. Would I please take a look at it. And being young and stupid, I told her I would. It was a belly button piercing. She had to unbutton her extremely tight jeans. Her large belly rolled out. And I saw it. Her navel was green. Pus green. There was a huge infection going on under her skin that was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen. "Go to the doctor. Go now." "Are you sure?" "YES!" She came back a few hour later with a prescription for an antibiotic. She thanked me for telling her to go to the ER. She had an abscess you could fit a quarter in. They had to drain and debride it. Uck. Why anyone fat as her though a belly piercing was a good idea, I have no idea. Why she would shove a new piercing into tight jeans is another good question. How she could not notice her stomach had turned had turned green is a mystery, unless she was physically unable to see it. Still, mirrors exist! Anyway, that ranks with one of the nastiest things I have ever seen. --- musclebabs_buffpants Why do fat fucks get belly rings? I can only imagine how long it would take to heal. They can barely wash themselves correctly, much less care for a piercing that's surrounded in fat. --- SparklyBarista My sister told me that most people who are fat can't really do belly piercings because the fat will reject the piercing and cause an infection. === rcvrd jan 2021 for a writer, you'd think OP would use more paragraphs. this is a GOOD story, so I reformatted, for your enjoyment, fokes!! for such a good post, there were barely any comments. some junkier posts got lots of comments. quantity, quality.