I think I have a very unique perspective on this topic.
First let me state some very important points:
- I by no means think I’m in a position to measure a person’s worth, by weight or any other standard. And if I were to make an attempt at it, I certainly wouldn’t be so superficial to use weight as a primary (or even secondary) metric.
- A woman is free to weigh whatever she chooses to weigh. If you want to be rail thin, rock on. If you want to have large muscles, have at it. If you want to be soft and carry a lot of fat, I support you.
- What I’ll be discussing in this post might seem like I’m doing nothing but objectifying women. Please know that this is merely a sliver of my worldview. I’m shining a bright light on a very specific topic. It is NOT the extent of how I feel about anything and everything. It’s merely a discussion. If it offends you, I think it’d be worth exploring why. You might uncover something in your life that’s been bothering you… something you can let go of.
- I value people. Relationships. Love. Friendship. Community. Bonds. There’s no greater opportunity than to be part of the shared human experience. I love people. Any and all people. I think we’re all very unique and very special in our own sort of way and I am very grateful for having the opportunity to meet people and learn about them. The point is, if you’re reading this… especially if you’re a woman… you mean a lot more to me than the number you’re seeing on the scale.
With that out of the way, let’s get into what that reading on the scale actually means to me. And my apologies in advance. I imagine this is going to get a little long.
I like weight.
Specifically, weight that’s sourced from a woman’s body.
Especially when that weight is grand enough to overpower my body.
Well, I’m not a submissive. At least not in the traditional sense. Meaning I don’t like women dressed in leather to whip me and dominate me. I’m sure there’s more that goes into that lifestyle and admittedly… I’m ignorant about it. But I don’t have any part of me that feels compelled to learn more about it so I’m guessing it’s not for me.
But I do like to feel a woman’s weight on me.
Yeah, I thought so, too, when I first realized this.
I was 9 or 10. There was a female neighbor. She was 7 or 8. And HUGE. Like weighed more than a thin adult female at the time. And in relative terms, she was the biggest kid I had ever seen. In hindsight, I feel bad for her. She didn’t choose to be large. She was poor. Her parents were very overweight. Her sister was over 400 lbs.
Genetically, environmentally, and socially… she didn’t have a choice. She was likely programmed to be fat long before she even came out of her mother’s womb. Don’t believe me? Do some research on epigenetics. It’s pretty crazy. What your mom ate while you were in the womb likely influenced your weight today.
Regardless… at the time I didn’t feel any of this. All I could think about was getting under her heavy body. It wasn’t sexual at all. I had no interest in the opposite sex yet. I simply had this innate, predetermined desire baked into my subconscious that was pulling me toward her weight like gravity.
I can’t say where it came from. I remember feeling very weird about it. Ashamed even. So many questions swirled around in my head.
Why do I want this?
Where does it come from?
Is it safe?
Will she kill me?
Should I tell her?
Am I the only one who wants this experience?
Ahhh, the raw authenticity, curiosity, and innocence of youth. I miss it, even to this day. But I digress.
I wanted to get SQUASHED! That’s the only word that came to mind to describe my desire. Such a funny word, too. I could never have imagined how that word would come to define a meaningful part of my life later on.
At first, I was stupid about it. I’d find every opportunity to be around her. And when I’d share space with her, I’d awkwardly lay down, flat on my back, wishing with all of my might that she’d just hop right onto me.
I didn’t understand. That she was ashamed of her weight. That she was verbally assaulted every single day in school because of her weight. That she was uncomfortable. That she felt different. Much, much different than most overweight kids today. Not that the struggle still doesn’t exist. But the prevalence of overweight among our youth is much, much higher today than it was when I was a kid. This was back in the early to mid 80′s and being of size was more unacceptable than it is today… and that’s saying something.
Of course she wasn’t going to want to “squash” someone. Not when she felt ashamed and isolated. But I was too young to understand any of this.
After many failed attempts at laying down and praying she’d decide to squash me, something amazing happened. Almost as if destiny was real and she was swirling around her magic wand to set me down this path of relating to a woman’s weight in this very specific way.
A Turning Point
All of the neighborhood kids were playing H.O.R.S.E. You know the game. You shoot a basketball. If you make it, everyone else has to make the same shot. If they miss, they get a letter. Once you get “horse,” you’re out. The winner is the last person standing.
On this particular day, though, one of the other boys came up with a wrinkle in the rules that would forever change the course of my life.
The first loser has to get sat on by Amy (fictitious name, FYI). And they have to stay under her until the game is over!
1) If my REAL neighbor is reading this, you’ll know who you are. I wish nothing more than for you to reconnect with me so I can explain where, at least, I was coming from back then. By no coincidence at all, my email address is firstname.lastname@example.org.
2) Are you kidding me!!!??? I mean, talk about luck. Some 30 years later and I’ve yet to presented with such a fortunate turn of events as this. Of course this other boy was being mean. He was putting all the attention on Amy’s weight and treating it like it was something to fear. I’m sure it didn’t make her feel good at all. But in the same breath, it was like he was answering my biggest wish ever.
I never lost a game of H.O.R.S.E. so quickly. I missed every shot and hurried over to the sideline to lay down.
They say your strongest memories are formed during the most emotionally heightened times of your life. Let me tell you… I remember every single thing after laying down.
I remember the way Amy walked over to me. I remember noticing how she struggled to walk because of the size of her legs. I remember how big she looked from the point of view from my back looking up. I remember seeing her belly hanging over her shorts, which I could see under her shirt from my vantage point. I remember wishing she’d stand on me rather than sit because I imagined that’d be a lot more intense and awesome. I remember wondering if I was going to get hurt. I even remember the way the sky looked behind her as I anxiously peered upward at her. The way the clouds moved. The way the leaves danced in the wind.
It was perfect.
Amy plopped down onto my chest unapologetically. Like hard. Really, really hard. It knocked the wind out of me so violently that I was coughing and wheezing uncontrollably. She rolled off to the side. I remember she was laughing nervously thinking she seriously hurt me. Honest to goodness… even though I was sincerely struggling to catch my breath… I was happier than I had ever been in my life to that point.
I caught my breath and Amy slid back onto my chest. She was sitting squarely on it so that her butt was near my chin and her feet were toward my feet. It was thrilling, scary, exciting, painful, blissful, and so many other adjectives. It was like an endless array of powerful emotions were swarming around me and I wanted more and more of it. It was the most emotionally and physically powerful experience I had had to that point in my life.
Of course, that was my mind and heart speaking. My body on the other hand? It was failing. The game was still going on even though I couldn’t tell you a thing about it. My entire existence was wrapped up in this little experience that was unfolding on the sideline. What I did know, though, was that I wasn’t going to last. I was constricted to a point where my lungs weren’t working as they should. The more fatigued my muscles got, the less I could support her massive weight. And eventually, I remember it feeling like my bones were the only thing supporting her. My muscles had long since burned out. And my organs were smashed.
I remember thinking that I might actually die. I was genuinely scared. I started to panic. I kicked and tried to roll to no avail. I remember thinking how terrifying yet exciting this predicament was. I didn’t have the words for it then… it was all stemming from innate desires. Something deep within my reptilian brain yearned for such struggle. For whatever reason, I loved the notion of being in trouble from the simple fact that a girl was placing her weight on me.
Amy wasn’t mean. In fact, she was really freaking awesome. I loved the person she was. She slid off me and we laughed together. Amazingly, she seemed to enjoy it a bit.
Within minutes, she was back to socializing with the other kids as if none of that meant anything. I, on the other hand, was enthralled. I mean, yeah. My lungs hurt. I couldn’t take a deep breath in without feeling a sharp pain. And my back hurt. Heck, I even remember feeling light headed when I sat up.
But I was so damn hooked.
I imagine it’s how it might be for an addict the first time someone tries meth or something like that. And admittedly, I don’t know a lot about drugs. Are you an addict before you try the drug? Or does the addiction form after you try the addictive substance. If it’s the latter then why can some people try it and walk away from it never to try it again?
All I knew back then, though, was that I was indeed addicted.
The ice was broken. For the next couple of years I concocted so many unusual games that led to the loser getting squashed by Amy. Needless to say, I learned to embrace being a loser of games early on. If this was losing, I wanted to be a loser for the rest of my life.
That’s how I first experienced a woman’s weight. I can’t say that it’s how this all started. As I indicated earlier… the desire was there before the experience. Was I born an addict maybe? I don’t know. But I was too excited to figure out what was next to worry about the origins of it all. This was absolutely the start of something much, much bigger than I could have ever imagined.
The Experimental Years
Eventually Amy moved away. And I figured out ways to have other experiences. Babysitters, aunts, other friends, etc. I got under others and my desire for it grew with each successive squashing. It never got old. Like… never ever.
The questions still remained. Was I flawed? Broken? Weird? Alone?
Around the 7th grade we got our first home computer with the Internet. AOL was the shit! It was mind-blowing how I could talk to anyone across the world. I could even search profiles that had pictures. Not gonna lie… I was checking out the profiles of big women long before I should’ve been. More importantly… I could search the web for anything.
The first thing I searched was “fat women.”
Hot damn! There were already websites dedicated to big women. And I stumbled across this term – BBW. Big beautiful women. I searched it and I was literally shocked. There were images of women who were far larger than I ever believed possible. It was sort of like learning that Santa Clause was actually real. Imagine if that’s how the story went way back when? I had never seen women this large. I mean… I had been drawing pictures of enormous women. They were very rudimentary… as I’m no artist in the traditional sense. I believed the fictitious characters on my papers were the stuff of dreams and fairytales. But here, right before me on this fancy computer thingamajig, were images of real women who were, in fact, larger.
I had to feel this kind of weight on me.
Naturally, my next inclination was to search “squashing.”
Oh. My. God.
I won’t put exclamation marks there because there aren’t enough to convey how amazed I was.
I was not alone. Not by a mile. Not only were there other guys who were obviously into getting squashed. But there were actually women – big, powerful women – who were into squashing. I felt validated. I felt accepted. And more than anything, I felt excited. I felt that I was only at the very tip of what was probably a very large iceberg of experience. There was so much more to do. So many more women to meet. So much adventure to be had.
Now around this same time, I was also hitting puberty and learning that there was more to women than weight. I’m talking from a physical perspective. Obviously all humans – men and women – are complex, multifaceted, amazing creatures on all levels… emotional, cognitive, and physical. But around this time I was coming into my own as far as physical attraction toward the opposite sex goes.
This only stood to magnify my desire to experience squashing. Now it wasn’t just about having a big woman put her weight on me. It was about having a big, sexy woman put her weight on me and that was a profoundly different experience. Not from the outside onlooker necessarily. But from the internal experience that I was going through… yeah. It compounded the intensity of the pleasure and excitement.
Over the next 10-15 years, the Internet and social communities evolved. I remember the early days of Yahoo Groups and Yahoo Messenger. And then even Myspace. Needless to say, there were endless profiles and as the obesity “epidemic,” as they call it, unfolded… more and more of these profiles depicted large women.
I don’t know if I come across as trustworthy, interesting, fun, respectful, or what. But I presented the concept of squashing to many women, strangers at that, who wound up trying it with me. It was such a crazy time. As soon as I could drive, I was going to women’s homes for squashing rendezvouses. I assure you, they were just that. Maybe I’m naive. Or a sexual wimp. But there was no nudity. There was no sexual contact. It was merely small talk followed by me laying down on the hard floor and feeling their full weight on me.
Pure weight play. Pure adventure. Pure excitement. Through the awkwardness of random squashings… so much fun was had and friendships were forged. Some that even stand to this day.
It was all about experimenting. Each woman was bigger than the last. I assumed I’d find a physical limit to what I could handle. What would happen once I found it? I had no idea. And it terrified me. Excited me, too. A lot. The thought of encountering a woman so heavy that I couldn’t handle a second of her weight was so exhilarating. This idea fueled my passion to keep exploring. Keep meeting awesome women. Keep testing limits. Keep pushing myself.
There are so many great stories from those days. I could write an entire book on it. Picking up a girl from college who was too big to fit into my front seat. I had to call her a taxi to get her to the hotel room. Blacking out while a stranger stood on me on the bathroom floor of a cheap hotel. Having a woman I had only just met sit squarely on my chest whose butt was so large that both of her cheeks touched the floor next to my body. And I struggled, grunting as I tried to breathe and she was telling me to shhhh as I’d wake up her sister who was her roommate… not caring that I was suffocating under her. Two very large sisters who sat on me on the dirty floor of their apartment who literally had an involved conversation as if I didn’t exist under them… they ignored my taps for mercy for nearly 15 minutes. Being stood on by a woman who was trying to be in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the fattest mom on the planet. On and on these adventures go.
I learned a lot. I refined the narrative I have about squashing – what it means to me, why I think you should try it, and what it’s all about. I met some truly remarkable people. And I never did find a limit. Which was totally okay in my book… probably better off anyhow.
By the time my early 20s rolled around, there were adult websites dedicated solely to squashing. Well actually, the first one ever was there back in my early AOL days. I don’t know if it still exists today. Hold on… let me go check.
Wow… yep, it’s still there. Keep in mind, it’s NSFW. Isn’t that the phrase they use to explain that something might contain adult images? Not safe for work. Why isn’t it NSFC… not safe for children? Ahh, whatever. There are images of partially nude women on this site.
I haven’t visited that site for decades, but wow does it bring back some fond memories. The reason I never returned to it, though, was because of the explosion of BBW websites that hit the scene. Many of them focused on squashing, or, at a minimum, contained some squashing content. If you’re a connoisseur, you’ll recognize names like Goddess Patty, Zsalynn, Chocolate Desires, Raqui, etc.
It wasn’t long until I began reaching out to some of these women. I explained that I had an immense background in squashing and I could help them create very intense content. After all, it was the intense stuff that drew the most attention from customers. It was a win-win. I could get squashed by heavier women than I had ever encountered and they would capture great content for their sites.
I had some fun there. I only worked for 2 “famous” BBW models. This path was cut short by an obvious question, though.
If these women were making money at this, couldn’t I help other women I had become friends with along the way make money with this, too. Now, I didn’t know the first thing about making money online. I didn’t know how to build websites or anything like that. But by this time, technology was booming. There were now turnkey platforms that catered to adult fetish content. Put simply, you could sign up and within a matter of minutes have a fully functional store that you could sell content on. And there was a captive audience… tons of customers coming to the platform to browse all the various fetishes and stores.
They say everyone has some kink or fetish. Sure, some are more normal than others – like blond hair. But when I first stumbled upon clips4sale.com, I was shocked by how many fetishes there were. Smoking, diapers, gaining weight, feeding, financial domination. CBT, BDSM, amazons, jiggling, feet, and on and on it went.
Of course one of the many categories was squashing. Think about the trajectory. The turn of events. Major dots in my life over decades of time were being connected. I literally recall naming the experience with Amy back on the basketball court squashing. And now, here I was, an adult, tossing around the idea of “going pro” in the squash game.
Let me tell you. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t pause and let my gratitude envelop me. To be alive today is magical. I mean, there are more heavy women than in any other time in history. And technology is such that there are no boundaries to who you can connect with. It’s a truly remarkable turn of events. I do wonder if I would have had the Amy Experience had computers and devices been around back then. Sure, I would have been looking at squash content online still. But I see kids today. They’re always connected. It seems that they struggle to bridge the gap between fantasy and reality. Again… even there I have to embrace my gratitude. Thank goodness I was alive pre-mindless-connection.
I went to my “rolodex” and ran the idea by a woman I had chatted with for years and years. She was stunning. Over 500 lbs and just very, very pretty. She was perfect. I bought a camera. I told her I’d help her set up a store on this platform. And we’d meet, film a handful of videos, upload them, and sit back and let the money roll in.
We made 5 or so videos. She sat on my chest. She sat on my belly. She sat on my face. She stood on me. She jumped butt first onto me. To the outside onlooker, this would look insane. I understand this. I mean, a 500+ lb woman is big. Very, very big. And to see her violently throwing her weight around on an average size person, you’d think she’s killing him. If they looked closer, though, they’d see the smile on my face.
We did that for some time. Maybe 3-4 shoots. She made some money. Not enough to make it a full-time gig or anything like that. Man, I wish that were the case. There just aren’t enough people interested in it to turn that kind of profit. But still… if you’re openminded and adventurous, it’s pretty easy money. Turn on a camera and jump around on some trustworthy guy for a bit, hit upload, and watch the money roll in. Not a bad gig for all parties involved.
My name was growing in this very niche part of the adult fetish industry.
Who was this guy who was handling these huge women in this intense way?
I was getting inquiries from other models who wanted to do shoots with me. They had trouble finding guys who could handle their weight in the ways their fans wanted to see them using it. And emails from men. Soooo many emails from men. Some of them were curious about how I wasn’t getting hurt. They wanted to know if I had tips for them. Others wanted to know if I could introduce them to the women I was working with. They were sending me requests. Request after request. I thought I had done everything in the book, but man alive… these guys were nuts. They wanted to see 600+ lb women stand on my throat full weight. They wanted to see enormous women walk on my body wearing spiked heels. They wanted to see me passing out under their butts. Total freaking insanity.
As an aside, the most common remark from men who email is this.
You’re so lucky.
Lucky? Wake up, man. You’re alive during the most epic time in human existence. Opportunity is all around you. Sure, I was lucky to have Amy as a neighbor back in the day. Even without her, though… I would have fallen into this someway somehow. Life’s seriously freaking brief. Here today, gone tomorrow. I could drop dead befor……………………
Before finishing this sentence. You have one major decision that will stand as the basis for the remainder of your existence. Are you going to be someone who is defined by the circumstances around you? Or are you going to choose to design a life that’s on your terms? Especially if you’re in North America. I mean… the prevalence of overweight and obesity is something like 70%. Heavy women are all around you. If you want to experience this, you can’t excuse yourself from the responsibility by calling it luck. It’s not luck. I’ve experienced squashing with over 50 women. That’s not luck. If something keeps happening over and over and over… by definition that’s not luck.
Grow up. Own your life. Be who you want to be. Live how you want to live.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that my entire life had been leading to this moment. It was time to start a website that catered to full weight, intense squashing on my terms.
The Birth of Full Weight Productions
It hit me like a bolt of lightning. It just made so much sense. I mean, running my own shop would provide the platform for me to come at women in a professional way without seeming like an absolute weirdo. Mind you, that never stopped me from experiencing this with women who were strangers before. So if you’re reading this as some hopeful guy, please know that you don’t need to have a website and do this professionally to experience this. You just can’t be an asshat. Yeah… I said it. Most of you guys are asshats. Before you say hello and properly introduce yourself online, you’re sending dick pics to these women.
No actually… that deserves spelling out.
What. The. Fuck!?
Nobody wants to see your dick. And if you’re serious about potentially experiencing squashing with a woman you don’t really know… let’s face it. You have to establish some trust. You have to seem somewhat normal and respectful. Presenting yourself as a sex-crazed maniac who can’t control his impulses or converse on a human level scares even me. Let alone the poor woman who finds you in her inbox.
Think a little…sheesh.
But again… I digress.
My own website would create a legitimate platform for this adventure. It would potentially put a little play money in my pocket, which I certainly could have used at the time (that still hasn’t changed, mind you). And maybe, more importantly, it would establish a way for the women I would squash with to actually get compensated.
This brings up an important point. I never have nor will I ever in the future work with a woman who’s solely in this for the money. I have no interest in that shit. There are too many openminded, adventurous women out there who are genuinely interested in trying something new and exciting like this for or without compensation for me to have any interest in a money-seeking woman. Sure, money can be part of the reason. But it cant be the only reason.
But still… the idea of being able to compensate women who wanted to share this experience with me felt a lot better than not being able to compensate them.
Plus there was the sheer art of it. I know, I know. How the hell could you say there’s art to squashing. But hear me out. There are a ton of customers who like to see squashing unfold in very specific ways. Some of these ways are very, very hard to handle. There aren’t many guys who can handle weight in the ways that I can. And there aren’t many people out there that can bring together women like this to do this sort of thing over and over. Being able to field requests and honor them in ways that were very appealing felt like art to me. And it still does to this day.
Anyhow, that’s a very long way of saying that I started my own thing. The name was obvious. Full Weight Productions. At first it started as a store on the clips4sale platform. Since then I’ve also launched a membership site as well as a hybrid membership/clips-on-demand website.
The store – www.clips4sale.com/studio/64833
The membership site – www.fullweightproductions.com
The hybrid site – www.squashing.org
Just like the early years of my squashing life, there are some very epic tales from the squashings related to FWP. I won’t go into them here. I mean, you can go to any of the links above and see pictures, sample videos, and full clips. But obviously, there are stories behind all of the encounters you’ll see there. Someday I plan on sharing these stories in some form. Please let me know if you have an interest in that.
I’ve been truly pushed and tested by women weighing 160 lbs all the way up to one woman who weighed just shy of 900 lbs. No joke. If you’re reading this, you know who you are and I love you… you’re one of the most beautiful humans I’ve ever met – inside and out. Heck, every woman I’ve opened up to professionally in the squash game has become a dear, dear friend of mine. I love you all.
I’ve had two women who were over 600 lbs sit on me at the same time as I laid across a hard, wooden board. I’ve had women stand full weight straight on my throat. I’ve had women sit on and ultimately pop beach balls that were resting on my chest. I had a woman crush a watermelon that was on me. I’ve had women jump off of platforms onto me feet first. I had a huge boulder rolled onto me and a woman sat on and stood on it. I had a 650 lb woman sit on my head as it was rested back over a sofa seat cushion and I passed out. On and on it goes… just crazy, crazy stuff.
Not stuff, actually. Fun. Sheer, unabated fun.
What can I say, I’m like the Evil Knievel of heavyweight women.
So this brings me back to weight. What does a woman’s weight mean to me?
Obviously there’s a lot of fun, adventure, excitement, business, power, and much, much more baked into the meaning of weight for me.
But beyond all else, I appreciate the physicality of a woman. All of it. Goddesses come in many, many forms. But they all have some commonalities. Curves. Rolls. Softness. Cellulite. Dimples. They jiggle when they move. They fit tightly into clothes. On and on it goes.
Weight, though… it’s like the wind. You can’t see it. You can only feel it. And to truly experience it… it has to be on you. Squashing provides a definitive, tangible feeling of weight. What’s more… it bottles up all of that appeal to the physicality of a woman into one very concise, pure, powerful experience.
It’s an understatement to say that when a woman puts her full weight on me, she becomes my entire world. It’s *that* powerful. It sucks your consciousness into a black hole of shared human experience where the only thing that matters is you, the woman on you, and staying alive long enough to tap for a mercy. It’s a physical challenge. It’s a mental challenge. And it’s all rooted in pure respect for the woman who might find herself on top of me.
I realize that this might seem so fucking strange to some of you. And that’s okay. Like I said, we’re all unique in our own sort of ways. I accept this. Embrace it even. If you don’t… your loss. There are a lot of amazing people out there who might not necessarily fit your mold of acceptable or normal. People you’ll never get the opportunity to meet. And if you’re okay with that… cool. Do you. To me, though, life’s far too short for that shit.
I’ll be over here meeting all sorts of different, amazing people having a blast, gasping for air, worshipping goddesses as they merely let gravity do its thing.
By the way, that’s one of the most fascinating things about squashing for me. Gravity. A heavy woman can just sit there in pure relaxation. She’s not exerting any effort whatsoever. But if you find yourself under her… you will be in the fight of your life just to survive. That dichotomy is magic to me.
At the end of the day, squashing is merely a platform to experience what weight means to me. I’m not asking you to accept it. Or to even consider it. I’m simply telling one little facet of my story. And I’m urging you to let down your guard and embrace your own uniqueness.
And if you’re a woman who doesn’t fit the restrictive mold of beauty in our culture, have faith. Not all guys are into it. Women of substance come in many shapes and forms. But in almost all cases, the substance runs deep… from the outside in. And if you ever want to feel what it’s like to be worshiped like this… where your physicality is not only embraced but adored, admired and respected… consider at least trying squashing. Look past the weirdness of it. Embrace it as an adventure. Something to try at least once. Find a trustworthy person to experience it with and enjoy.
Maybe you’ve been told your entire life that you’re “too big for this,” or “too big for that.” I’m not here to tell you, once and for all, that you’re not big enough. That everyone else was wrong. As I said at the very beginning of this story… your body is your body. Your weight is a personal choice and I support you regardless of what the scale says. But here to tell you that weight isn’t something to fear. It’s not something to hide. It’s part of your unique offering to the world… inside and out. To some, it doesn’t matter. To others, it’s meaningful beyond words. If you wish to explore this world of weight play, please visit our model inquiry page.
Oh, and if you’re reading this and you’re someone who has worked with FWP, please comment below. I’d love to chat about the deeper meaning of all of this if you’re so inclined. Or, at a minimum, share your experiences so that other newcomers might feel confident and comfortable exploring this adventure themselves.
Owner and Operator of Full Weight Productions