💬 Off-Topic Deathfat Encounters IRL - This thread is not your personal army.

[RunRufusRun]

Worked the side job again last weekend. Had a van full of 6 of us. Get there and learn Dickie Doo had shown up hours early left his gear on a table and then hit the local buffet.

Set up the various things. Assigned people to positions. Then sat down to read and kill time.

Look up and Dickie Doo's belly enters the room almost a full minute before he does. Been 3 weeks since i saw him last and he has gotten bigger. Dude had on same shirt as last time and now it is super tight and looking like it is about to burst.

We joke that at these events if you see a fuckable woman she is gonna be one of the performers girlfriends or wives. And this event no fuckable women.

Was one so wide she got 1 and part of the other buttcheek on the seat and the rest hung out in the aisle. Was a guy that looked like the male version of Tammy Slaton. Big ass lump on his forehead and all.

Gonna scan through the footage from the cameras and try to get good shoots of these hamplanets.

Intermission hits,I go outside to smoke and get away. Come back in an get told "Yea Dickie Doo is now claiming he has lost 150lbs and runs every day." So I told them how I just saw him 2 weeks ago and he is bigger now. Asked what he claims he weighs now... "He is saying 225. But look at that 4xl shirt straining to not pop a seam on him. He has to be over 400"

Show ends. Venue had ran the consessions. Get told that everyone that worked the show got a free hot dogs. I let all the folks that actually were performing to go get their food first. Sitting at a table reading a book,glance up and I see Dickie Doo walking out the front door with 3 or 4 hot dogs,plus another he was stuffing in his fat mouth.

So I asked if he had done any work before I got there. Nope. Told the guy running the event. Dude got mad. "That fat load thinks he can get in free do nothing and get free food. Gonna text him right now telling him he has to buy a ticket or do work."

Told the guy right then Look Dickie Doo aint gonna work,aint gonna pay. He will just stop coming.

Yep I was right. Dickie Doo claimed he worked. His work sitting at a table and filming one angle with his ipad. Never mind he never gives the editor this footage. And he never looks to see if stuff is framed right. Told the guy let me handle this.

"Look Dickie Doo you do not do a fucking thing at shows. We already got 8 cameras so your IPAD footage isn't needed. Stop being a lazy fat worthless waste of space and help out or buy a fucking ticket."

Been a few days and Dickie Doo is trying to claim I dont like him cause I am Fatphobic.

 

[Shakira Flabbergasted]

This isn't about one deathfat in particular, but a more general pattern I'm noticing. For one thing, 99% of deathfat encounters happen in Walmart. It's like an irl spawn chamber for them. Secondly, every time I see one they're always eating while they shop. The most common foods I see them with are ice cream, soda, pastries, and candy. Pure sugar and carbs, zero nutrition.

Now for the rare encounter which happened outside of Walmart and made me a bit sad. I saw a whole deathfat family at the airport last year. The mom was a real beast. Imagine one of those fat zombies from Resident Evil 6, but with a Hello Kitty hairbow perched atop a profusion of chins, each replete with chin hairs. The dad was both short and obese, a bit smaller than the mom in both width and height. Her beard rivaled his.

They had one daughter who was about five and already rotund. The whole time I was waiting for my flight, she was watching pop music videos on her mom's phone and eating a chocolate donut while drinking an entire adult-sized bottle of Coca Cola. At one point, she set the donut down on the airport floor, changed the video she was watching, picked it up again, and took a bite. Neither of her parents said a word to her about eating food off the floor. When she finished the donut, her mom handed her a candy bar from her purse.

Poor thing doesn't stand a chance. She's going to be morbidly obese before she's even 10 years old. I rarely feel sorry for deathfats since obesity is just a lack of self-control, but this girl will never be taught self-control in the first place. If she ever learns it, it'll be on her own as an adult. If overfeeding a cat or dog is animal abuse, then overfeeding your kid is child neglect at the very least.

 

[Clostridium Botulinum]

This went on for 3 sandwiches. Apiece.

With how expensive airport food is, how do these fuckers afford 6 sandwiches? I know airport kiosks don't accept EBT.

This is why I hit up Sheetz or Jersey Mikes before flying.

 

[Party Cheese]

the HOW of doing one: how can you open someone like that up to access the organs and still be able to 'zip' them back up to be presentable for a funeral?

If you've ever had to zip up an overstuffed duffel bag, the method is similar: pinch the edges to create some slack, "zip", hold, stuff stuff stuff the contents of the (gut) bag, relocate pinchers (search "towel forceps" if you're truly morbidly curious) "zip" and stuff, and repeat.

It helps that the contents that one is stuffing has been reduced by dessicating chemicals and any liquid has been removed. The human body, especially the landwhale variant, is remarkably liquid. It also helps that the skin is already busted out and more elastic.

You think they just say fuck it and hit the stitches with super glue to avoid seepage

The cauterizing chemicals take pretty good care of that, the raw skin bordering the thick yellow fat gets a kind of "crispy" look if you don't work fast enough but if you work in stretches, it tightens and creates a water(or oil)-tight seal, similar to leather. Mortuary sutures aren't surgical sutures, gently abutting the skin to prevent a scar. Each gather of skin is knuckled into the next suture, colloquially called a "baseball stitch".

You can't really embalm fat, but you can isolate the cells and sort of "rubberize" the edges long enough to get some Perma-seel down, and shimmy some comically huge plastic garments on, to catch any whoopsies. Fat people shart a lot when you're moving them, and adult diapers don't fit quite right, so they get the Punishment Pants if several foot of cotton up the rectum doesn't work.

Dead fat people don't last long, but refrigeration also helps to tighten everything up before viewing. Like a stick of butter you've left on the counter overnight, it will hold shape for a few hours of viewing.

And yes, my back and shoulders fucking kill me whenever it rains. People are now getting so big we have special prep tables and a lift that tops out at a ton and a half, but I still have to roll, lift, wipe and stuff your dead ass like a side of beef during the embalming process. The next time you pick up the fork, please think of your future mortician.
Even if you think embalming is weird, the grease fires in the crematory are awful and I feel like it takes weeks to get the stink out of my hair and nails. I just work here, man.

EDIT:
I'm still reading the thread while I get ready for work, but if your decedent is green (or grey, or purple) someone is doing it wrong and squicky about drainage. Blorping the big fat greasy cholesterol clots out of the jugular is my last true joy as an embalmer and should never be half-assed.

 

[Cranky Old Broad]

@Party Cheese I know you’re providing a necessary service and someone’s got to do it but damn, your description was horrifying. Yours must be a thankless and very difficult job but I appreciate that you and others like you that step up and get it done.

Edit: Word.

 

[failed mist]

Blorping the big fat greasy cholesterol clots out of the jugular is my last true joy as an embalmer and should never be half-assed.

Incredible post, I love it when death industry people post here. You’re telling me that you can squeeze out atherosclerotic plaque like toothpaste out of a tube?

 

[Party Cheese]

Incredible post, I love it when death industry people post here. You’re telling me that you can squeeze out atherosclerotic plaque like toothpaste out of a tube?

It's the cholesterol that builds up on the hardened plaques, compressed into a long slippery embolus that can be drawn from the vein, if one is very gentle with the forceps. Feels like a slug made of jelly, the color of farm fresh egg yolks.
I like to call my coworkers into the room to admire my best work, much like a man holding a big fish.

The plaques absolutely can and do break and will pop out of the artery (or block the cannula, extremely annoying) but it's not toothpastey, more weirdly fibrous, lumpy and crunchy all at once, no calamari-like stretch.

Your dental hygienist is welcome.


Also happy to answer your burning questions via DM, you morbid fucks. It's not like my clients are much for conversation.

 

[Echnaton]

Incredible post, I love it when death industry people post here. You’re telling me that you can squeeze out atherosclerotic plaque like toothpaste out of a tube?

The plaque is hard (hence, plaque). The soft gunk is the cholesterols that build up as they try dissolving the plaque or something like that since they carry fat around

 

[The Un-Clit]

It's the cholesterol that builds up on the hardened plaques, compressed into a long slippery embolus that can be drawn from the vein, if one is very gentle with the forceps. Feels like a slug made of jelly, the color of farm fresh egg yolks.
I like to call my coworkers into the room to admire my best work, much like a man holding a big fish.

The plaques absolutely can and do break and will pop out of the artery (or block the cannula, extremely annoying) but it's not toothpastey, more weirdly fibrous, lumpy and crunchy all at once, no calamari-like stretch.

Your dental hygienist is welcome.


Also happy to answer your burning questions via DM, you morbid fucks. It's not like my clients are much for conversation.

I am in awe of you. It takes a very special kind of person to be a mortician and to keep a (morbid) sense of humor about your work.

Of course, I hope to last long enough/be rich enough upon death that it would be affordable to launch my body into a high orbit when I die, so I may not need the mortician's touch. Vacuum should preserve me just fine until my orbit eventually decays and I get the most badass cremation of all by atmospheric friction.

 

[Tiresome]

Vacuum should preserve me just fine until my orbit eventually decays and I get the most badass cremation of all by atmospheric friction.

Serious question, why the waiting around and expense and effort of a high orbit, how about a high-apogee suborbital launch if you're inevitably going to burn up anyway?

 

[The Un-Clit]

Serious question, why the waiting around and expense and effort of a high orbit, how about a high-apogee suborbital launch if you're inevitably going to burn up anyway?

Honest answer, in-case there is some factor that we don't understand that preserves the 'soul' or other conciousness still tied to your body after death, I want to be able to look down on Earth like the Starchild in 2001: A Space Oddysey for a good long while before the final incineration.

Even if there's no such thing and my body is just meat, it satisfies my ego to have my body in orbit. May sound weird, but it's my corpse after all.

 

[Party Cheese]

Space cremation as your corpse bears witness to the world decaying is metal as fuck, and I'm jealous I didn't think of it first.

 

[I call shenanigans]

Having worked with Australian bariatric surgeons for 3 decades, I thought I’d seen it all. I hadn’t. The largest person I ever saw was 450lb @ 5’7”. She’s now deceased before even reaching 35 years old. She did have WLS and dropped to about 140lbs very quickly. All the patients I’d dealt with were relatively evenly fat distributed. No ALR shelf butts, no Chantal turn to the side and front to back is humongous compared to side to side, no Anna O’Brian Candy juicy thighs, until today. This morning I had a GP appointment. I was waiting in front of reception and a woman arrived (with her morbidly obese partner) and I saw her from the back. She was tall, but my god she was wide. Her horizontally striped cardigan clearly didn’t fit her. What I saw really shocked me. Front to back she was fat but nothing to speak about, however when I looked lower, it appeared that under her black leggings she’d put two filled up balloons on the side of each thigh. I just can not fathom how anybody could let this happen to themselves. It really was a first for me.

 

[crowabunga]

Yesterday I saw someone so fat that the closest pictorial analogue is the Woll Smoth meme:

Imagine two beady little eyes and a small mouth in the center of a block of pasty, pimpled skin. It's like their subcutaneous fat grew with perfect distribution until their entire body, face included, was composed of filleted (no not like fish) slabs of excess flesh.

 

[vanilla_pepsi_head]

I may have mentioned this on here before, it wasn't recent, but I saw a Seinfeld rerun that reminded me of it today. The individuals in question weren't *outrageously* large deathfats, but I still overheard them having one of the fattest conversations I've ever personally been privy to. Two lard barges and a, perhaps not skinny, but normal human-sized friend were engaging in boring diet talk, but I wasn't paying attention. My ears perked up, however, when the two fat ones insisted with all the righteous authority in the world that it is in fact a universal experience to eat out of fucking TRASH CANS.

Nigger I shit you not.

The gist of it was apparently that they were absolutely convinced that everyone has attempted to moderate their food intake only to fail immediately if there is any kind of tasty food in the house. What is a fatberg to do? Well, throw that perfectly edible (and allegedly delicious) food right in the fucking trash in an effort to resist the temptation... only to inevitably dig right back into said trash can and wolf that shit down anyway shortly after. The normal sized woman, bless her, was as kind about it as possible but said that, no, that is not something she's ever done. Fat fucks called bullshit and straight up insisted that anyone who claims they've never eaten out of a trash can in private is lying. I actually felt somewhat offended, just on behalf of civilized humanity in general. If it were a private, shameful admission from a binge-eater or bulimic about a rock-bottom moment I would feel some degree of empathy and likely wouldn't give them a hard time about it, fat or not... but convincing yourself that everyone eats out of the trash by choice when most bums even consider that below them is a delusional cope for the ages.

 

[Dr. Butt]

Again. That's what you do when you threw your cocaine in the trash yesterday because you're totally quitting this time. These women aren't "eating" the way you or I would "eat food". They are consuming product.

 

[Trombonista]

I saw a deathfat lady today with a poop bun and a shirt that said GRL PWR. I couldn't help but think it should have said GORL POWR.

 

[The Un-Clit]

I just remembered a deathfat encounter at a Greyhound bus terminal when I was a teenager, with a friend. We were going down to Seattle to catch an Ozzy Osbourne concert (He skipped Vancouver on the Ultimate Sin tour, the roach!) and while sitting waiting for the bus to arrive i noticed a smell of rotting garbage. Literally the same smell as an overflowing trash can out back of a restaurant in the alley. Sure enough I soon noticed an older, very fat woman had come into the room and was clearly the source of the stench. But the worst part was that hanging out from below her dress, well below knee level was the bottom of her fucking gut.

I think you call that a pannaculus or something, but it was hanging PAST HER KNEES, and was dusky gray at the bottom. And the STINK of her! Thankfully when she got on the bus (with help) she immediately sat at the first seat in the front. My friend and I went right to the back.

 

[Wooden Spoon]

It's been a while since I posted, but I wanted someone to know the things that has transpired in correlation to my father who used to sit at 750+ lbs. It has taken time and therapy to process the events that occured, but I have had no external outlets to be able to discuss what had happened. So, as I came here with my story the first time, I figured I would finish it here. Buckle up buckaroos, because this is going to take you on an insane roller coaster ride that has been my life for the past 2-3 years.

When I came here and shared my story, as a quick re-cap, I had revealed that I was the child of a deathfat who again, back in his glory days, was 750+ lbs. He often used me as his enabler, preparing food and keeping the house together from a young age. I didn't have friends, had to raise my sibling from birth, and was constantly subjected to screaming or yelling if services were not delivered in a timely manner. I thought that when I hit 18 and dropped everyone and went off to make my own life that would be it; just taking care of myself and living my own life. I would receive updates from time to time regarding my father, and I guess I let my stupid emotions pull me back into what was going to be the absolute worst experience of my life. Back in 2021 I made the decision to visit my dad in person, to see for myself the condition he was in.

I had mentioned in my prior post that his legs had atrophied like Ricky Berwick, but his entire body had changed. You know how Amberlynn was called a beanbag in a hurry? My father was a beanbag deflated. He had allowed himself to just lay in a bed years in and years out, WITH a bariatric electronic wheelchair that offered him freedom. After I starting making my appearance more he started to get into it, and for the first time in many many years my father had the option to leave his prison of 4 walls. Did he take it? No. He maybe left the room once a month and that was it. He didn't go out to see any of his extensive doctors, he didn't seek further help for medical issues that were building up, nah. It was just easier to lay in a bed and have everything and anything brought to you.

I don't want to get too detailed on the dates, but in 2023 he was getting really bad. I begged him to call 911, even drove over to him to talk to him in person to see if I could somehow change his mind to go to the emergency room. I will never forget for the rest of my days, that when I was genuinely BEGGING a GROWN man to go to the hospital, he told me that he wanted to rest a little bit before he headed in. Hearing that I got instantly angry and left from his residence and told him to call me when he made up his mind on what he was going to do.

The next day I get a call from the hospital saying that they had gotten a call from him early in the morning and that paramedics has brought him in and they had him in a medically induced coma. What had happened you ask? The cancer medicine that my father had been on had side effects, such as weakening of the intestine lining. He had not been seeing his doctors or taking the necessary scans to see how his body was holding up to the medicine and due to the weakening of the intestines they split open in his abdomen and they had to cut him open and leave the wound OPEN for 3 days to be able to clean it and monitor the situation, removing necrotic flesh and intestines as it worsened. Now, my father had knocked on deaths door for several years at this point. We all just knew that he was going to make it. He remained in the ICU for a month, slowly declining. He had to be intubated with a trach pipe down his neck, and I watched the father I had not had the best relationship for with years quickly decline. After those 3 days of being in a medically induced coma they allowed him to wake up, but he never fully gained consciousness. He was in too much pain and when they had him sedated it took everything in him to lay there.

Well, when someone gets to that point, the obvious choice is to start talking about letting the person go if there is no return. I still refused to give up, because that was my dad and even though I may have not been the best daughter, I could make the best choices with what I had. I still fought for him as the days continued, and after a month a nurse pulled me aside and told me that we needed to talk. I was the medical power of attorney for him, which meant I was responsible for his medical decisions. She showed me pictures of bedsores so deep that a grown man could stick TWO of his fists within the wound up to his wrists, and that was just one sore. He had a pic line that was trying to deliver sustenance to his body but his body was rejecting nutrition. His pain levels were so high and when they administered pain medicine it caused his heart rate to plummet and they couldn't move him around like they needed, resulting in the sores. On top of everything, he was suffering with sepsis. But the final decline was when his brain stopped responding, and after 5 days of his brain waves not registering I knew that it was time. I had fought for my father harder than he had ever fought for himself and nothing was working.

Now, if this isn't already sounding depressing and meek, imagine mixing into this situation a family that 90% never made it into highschool biology or even into high school. When I made the call that it was time and continued to allow family to visit him, everyone started accusing me of wanting to "kill" my dad. The man that was rotting and was trapped within his mortal vessel, that I wanted to murder him. Rolling my eyes I continued through with what I knew was best.

It took my father 4 minutes to die once they took him off the machine. 4 minutes, when we were told it could take days for him to pass naturally. He was so tired and weak from his body ultimately giving up on him, that it took no time at all. I am still marked as a murderer by most people in my family. I was retaliated against and had faticious charges taken out on me that I had to hire a lawyer and get dismissed and expunged (Spoon will continue to have a clean record, no matter what.) The court system took almost 2 years to dismiss me of the charges and my family still finds anyway it can to try and cause trouble for the decision I made.

My father died horrendously and I will forever live with the decision I made. Oh, and just know, that if you are over 350+ lbs when you die you basically get air fried before you get cremated. I will admit I laughed very hard when I discovered that and still get a chuckle if I think about it randomly from time to time. I am okay as I can be, I have grown and learned a lot since then. Just don't become a deathfat, guise. It's one thing to work off a little unhealthy weight, but to allow yourself to become bed bound? It's not worth it. I wouldn't recommend this experience, it was a -10/10 for me and for him I would guess much worse. long post is long, I apologize. I just wanted you all to know the end, and how bitter it was.

 

[Breadbear]

Jesus Christ, that's rough.

Look, you didn't kill him. By the time you made the call, he was already dead. No brain waves = dead. His body was kept warm for his family to visit.