I’m still trying to find the loose end that’s making my whole self unravel. Maybe I ate it thinking it was spaghetti, I mean there’s so much food sneaking past my lips it wouldn’t be too hard to miss the fact that I’m actually eating myself.
We did a team building day in the office yesterday and we kind of had to draw out our life in ten minutes on a flip chart. The brief was to be completely honest…oh fuck. That’s never going to end well is it, for a girl with no filter?
I drew a heartbeat right the way across the page, kind of like a heart monitor. I put all the things that make me happy on the peaks of my heartbeat and all the things that make me sad at the lows. All my happy things were friends and family, and handbags and holidays…writing my blog and hanging out in these pages. The lows were jobs I’d hated, and general life bleurgh.
I’m so used to being freakishly honest with you lot, it felt like the most normal thing in the world to talk about food too, and how come it was riding the peaks but also lurking in the depths of the lows. The best of times and the worst of times. How it makes me happy but also very sad. How when I’m over-eating I’m happy because I’m eating, but sad at the same time because I’m not in control. And when I’m not eating I’m sad because I’m not eating but I’m happy at the same time because I am in control.
Then I looked around and realised that every other flipchart life story on the wall had life events and career paths. Mine was the only one with cake. And reading all that back doesn’t make me feel any less of a fucking basket case. I was at work, for fuck’s sake. Not here. Here I can say shit like that…probably not so much so in the office, right? Bet they’ll all be locking up their emergency biscuits from now on.
Anyway, that’s kind of how my week’s shaping up.
I’m at the gin festival on tomorrow with my boy…I’m going to make that my last day of fuckery. I bought him the tickets as part of his Christmas present and we’ll have a really good laugh and hopefully try some artisan gins and specialist tonics. I have no doubt that we’ll stagger home on the train feeling three sheets to the wind and food will definitely be consumed so there’s not even any point in pretending that today will go according to plan.
But Sunday, with you lot chomping at my heels and making me listen to good sense…well. I’m going for a reboot. I so want to pull it off and get back to a world where my every waking thought doesn’t involve food. Or even if it does, a world where I can stick my fingers in my ears and ignore the Asshole voice.
Not before time, in fact way overdue…