Nikki And Felicity Belly Stuffing -part 1- Target | iPad |

Sitting on a faux-leather ottoman in the furniture section (because why not?), Nikki and Felicity split the mozzarella sticks. The hot cheese stretched for miles. Nikki felt her stomach gurgle in protest—it was too fast, too hot, too much—but Felicity was already eyeing the candy aisle.

The "entree" of the stuffing session requires volume, not just sugar. Nikki pushed the cart toward the frozen aisle while Felicity grabbed a rotisserie chicken from the hot deli (eating it with her fingers out of the plastic container, grease dripping down her chin).

The walk to the car was humiliating and glorious. Nikki held the shopping cart like a walker, her stomach protruding so far she couldn't see her feet. Felicity waddled beside her, groaning, unzipping her hoodie all the way to let her belly breathe. Nikki And Felicity Belly Stuffing -Part 1- Target

Nikki laughed, patting her own flat stomach nervously. "You sound like a doctor of gluttony."

"My turn," Nikki said, surrendering to the chaos. She grabbed the cold pizza and folded a slice in half, cramming it into her mouth. Then another. Then a donut. Sitting on a faux-leather ottoman in the furniture

Neither of them moved. They couldn't. They were anchored to the tile floor by the sheer weight of processed food.

"Target," Nikki texted back. "No limits. No regrets." The "entree" of the stuffing session requires volume,

"Same time tomorrow?" she asked.