The Fat Girl Within

I think there is fat girl trapped inside my body. She is making me eat like some kind of monster. It’s either a fat girl, or some kind of parasite. I just want to eat all the time. I would worry I was pregnant, if I didn’t know for sure that this would be a physiological miracle. This morning, I bought a cheese pastry and ate it on the way to work because I was running late and knew that waltzing in just after 10am carrying a visible take-away box of toast from the canteen downstairs would probably not look great. Especially since I have to walk past the three people who will be on Friday’s interview panel to get to my desk every morning, meaning they can see what time I get to work. Eek.

Since getting to work (just over an hour ago), I have made some tea, eaten a plum and started tucking into my second pastry of the morning (chocolate, this time). I also have an apple waiting on my desk to be devoured and a drawer containing the remaining half of the packet of fruit shortcake biscuits (the other half of which I ate yesterday). I’m already planning lunch, too. The eating machine must be stopped.

I am feeling worse than yesterday and wishing I could be at home, tucked up in bed watching trash telly. I’m not sure which would be worse – being at work, unable to concentrate and wishing I was at home, or being at home resting, but with a guilt trip gift to take the edge off my enjoyment from Boss Lady, and the added anxiety of the workload that would be growing exponentially in my absence.

Life has started to stagnate again. I don’t much like October, although I’m not altogether sure why. I am starting to get that horrible feeling of October approaching, when the nights draw in and our evenings get shorter, and the morning air starts to hold on to the night-time chill. I am dreading that daily atmosphere of grey, where everything just seems dreary and bleak. Summer just wasn’t good enough this year. I think I may be in dire need of a holiday. A hot, sunny one.