Yes. I am expanding by the very second.
The button has popped off my jeans and holes are tearing in my t shirt as it struggles against my growing stomach. My clothes are stretching and stretching and - oh wait, they’ve ripped to shreds. My flabby body is now completely nude and wobbling like a jelly.
The sofa is sagging under my weight. *creeeeeeak* *crack* did you hear that? That was the woodwork collapsing under my colossal thighs. The floorboards are groaning under my weight, which I now estimate to be around half a ton. Oh. Wait. Make that a whole ton.
My body is now the size of the whole room, pressing aggressively against the walls and doors. Help! I have nowhere to go from here!
My belly is ramming into the windows and they smash outwards. I’m now spilling out onto the street. Drivers are abandoning their vehicles and the kids who were playing on the pavement have run inside screaming.
Police sirens wail down the road and helicopter propellers are throbbing overhead. Firefighters approach the building, but they’re too late. The roof has burst open and my limbs are sticking out of all entrances. I am wearing the house like a summer dress.
There have been fatalities! My car-sized foot has crushed a family of four beneath its staggering weight! But alas, the police cannot arrest me, for they’d need handcuffs the size of an Olympic athletics track to detain me!
Hurrah! The bricks and mortar encasing me have finally given way! Bricks and slates spray all around me, taking down the swarms of FBI agents surrounding the perimeter.
I start down the street, trampling cars and children, flailing my arms into skyscrapers which collapse into piles of dust and rubble.
Godzilla comes storming after me, but he is no threat, for I now weigh eight hundred tons. I bitchslap that green bastard out the way and hear a faint moan of defeat from his toothy mouth.
BUT WAIT. My skin has no more elasticity! My organs are the size of apartment complexes! How much longer can this-
BOOM. I explode, showering the people of England in clumps of inflated flesh and bone.
The funeral was a small, intimate affair. Very moving. There was only one speaker: my grieving mother.
She said: “I sure wish the human body knew how to handle an extra 800 calories every once in a while.”