Did I mention there'd be days that just suck giant rhinocerous ass? Days where your shoes fall to bits and your feet find every puddle, and the bus never comes, and your routine goes to Hell, and the people you have always known are idiots insist on treating you like you're the moron, and the world is extra full of chavs and gits and teenagers, until you're having Ally McBeal-style fantasies of whipping out a semi-automatic and spraying blood and bone and brain all over the place, and oh yes, by the way, you're on a fucking diet!
This, I suppose, is the time when comfort eating slithers into your brain and whispers "C'mooooonnnn...you know you want me. I'm good. You know how good I am. I'll make everything just that little bit better...promise."
Oddly enough, today, even though I'm having fantasies of slapping practically everyone - the colleague who's being an arse, the facebook foe who thinks long words stop nonsense being nonsense, the teenager on the bus, every single one of America's prospective next top models on my TV screen - it's not dessert that's calling me. There's no ice cream sundae dancing the dance of the seven wafers in front of my mind's eye. No, oddly enough, it's carb. Genuine, warming, comfort food - I feel like I want to be wrapped in creamy, buttery mashed potato from head to foot, and have warm gravy poured on my head, as though that would rock away the day's rough edges until I drop off to sleep.
(Sigh...)
But no. The minute I'm done with this, it's back on the bike, probably for longer than ever before, because - and this might explain a lot about the rage and hate that have characterised my mindset today, I suppose - I've spent the day in Teddington on a work assignment, which means I've done neither my morning nor my evening walk, and despite having eaten correspondingly little, my brain seems to have already trained itself to feel guilty when these things get missed on a weekday.
So I'm going to go away for now. I'm probably no good to anyone right now anyway, the mood I'm in. Tomorrow promises to be another bitch of a day, then the weekend - though this time, I most definitely have Things To Do. Working in the garden Saturday, and going to see a movie...of sorts...with a pal on Sunday.
Onward, to the bike!
Well, said pal fell off the wagon today. I spent most of the day surrounded by surely some of the most incompetent people on the planet, and somewehere in there includes my darling Dad. So I went a little bonkers and headed for Tesco's. Came out with a huge bag of crisps and 4 satisfyingly gigantic choc chip muffins. The crisps are all but gone ... I ate one muffin, in lieu of bday cake and am putting the rest in the freezer for future crazed moments.
ReplyDeleteMy darling Dad, (who I should mention I absolutely adore) called me tonight.
Dad: "I couldn't put your bday money in the bank. The account number you texted didn't work."
Me: "What number have you got?"
Dad: "+4479**95**3* ..." (*** just for security)
Me: "That's my mobile number, ya plonker!"
(Sigh) Anyway, provided I don't eat the restaurant's whole selection of gelato tomorrow night, I think I'll be winning ....
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