Oh boy…where do I start with this one. So I’m having a really bad day. Actually no that’s not entirely accurate, my day was fine, it’s more my evening that’s gone to shit. I’ll spare you the detail, but safe to say I’m in the middle of one of the toughest weeks of my life. I’m dealing with the aftermath of someone else’s bad choices, not my fault but a massive strain nonetheless and under normal circumstances I’d have vaporised at least a couple of packets of hobnobs as soon as I got in from work.
It’s a familiar pattern and I know you guys will get it. Right now, as I type this I’m locked horns with the asshole in my mind who, unhelpfully keeps drawing my attention to the five packets of freeze dried sour cherries dipped in dark chocolate which are sitting in the door of the fridge. 15 points per pack, 5 points per 8 cherries. An occasional treat. Up to now, no problem. I can’t always get them, they’re a luxury that I adore and when I saw them I bought in bulk…after all I’m in the sweet spot right? They’ve been in there a month at least. No worries…until there’s cause to worry. I’ve come to bed, because I’m on the ropes after taking a proper battering from the asshole tonight.
I’m so used to eating my feelings. Strangely, I couldn’t eat what I’d cooked for dinner – slow braised pulled beef with broccoli. The dog got lucky, in fact he probably thinks it’s his birthday. He’s full fat and happy, snoring beside me on the bed as I write this. I reckon I’ve got an hour before the effects of him eating human food work their way through his furry little pipes so I’m hoping I fall asleep quickly tonight. You know the way that cows are threatening the ozone layer by emitting regular bursts of methane..? My dog makes them look like rank amateurs. If I were a betting woman I’d put money on his ozone hole being considerably bigger than theirs. And given his insistence on spooning me on top of the duvet as I sleep, it’s safe to assume it’s going to be a stormy night.
So I had no appetite for dinner, but all I want to do now is to go eat my own bodyweight in freeze dried chocolate dipped cherries. I’m weathering the asshole-driven tornado for now…I came to bed, brushed my teeth twice and started writing. I’m in lockdown, but it’s the double-cheese-and-spring-onion sandwich dance all over again. I know it’ll pass, but right now the desire to throw my PJs back on and go downstairs to eat every last one of them is intense. I’m laid in bed fantasising about the bitter chocolate melting on my tongue and the way in which the sour cherry would make my ears laugh.
But I’m also thinking about how shitty I’ll feel if I cave in. It might even tip me right out of the sweet spot…who knows if I’d be able to climb back in again. And, I’d have to tell you I’d done it.
I can’t do that. You’re making me accountable, you rotten lot.
Thank you. Because I’m not sure I’d be this strong without you 🙂
