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Guilt, weight loss and tea
I've been trying on some of my school outfits over the past couple of
days, in order to work put what staples are missing from my wardrobe (a
cream fitted blouse for starters) and then this morning something very disturbing
happened... I pulled out one of my secretary skirts from last year
(glorious 50's affair with loads of net underskirts) and wondered if it
would do for school. I stepped into it, pulled it up and then tried to
zip myself in.
It didn't work.
Not, may I add, because the zip was broken, but rather that a large expanse of my arse was getting in the way.
This considerable weight gain is not in any way a mystery to me. I travelled Europe
stuffing my face with pasta, wine, sausages, pain au chocolate, beer
and many many other wonderful regional delicacies. In addition to my
continental feasting, I found a boy, settled down, and was taken out for supper and
discovered several new takeaway places near my house.
It's all happy fat!
But I don't like it. I have always been a size 12 (apart from once at
uni when I hit size 14 after living on chips, beer and custard for a
year). What if my weight now starts to spiral and I have to be lifted
out of my bed by a crane.? What if I don't sort this out?
Generally help should be arriving in the shape of my new job. I have
heaps of nervous energy and on my first day at work should probably
lose half a stone through sweat tears and panic...
Still, it does hurt to try and so for breakfast this morning I have
eaten an organic banana and drunk real loose leaf breakfast tea, which
should almost certainly make up for my complete binge at
blinks later.
Oh fuck it, of course it won't... chocolate biscuit anyone?
Seriously...
or
...if you really really had to.
Nothing, really nothing.
Laat night I couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was because I had drunk way WAY
too much, perhaps it was the pint of diet coke that I drank when I got
home, perhaps with was the pizza dripping with cheese that I stuffed
into my mouth before going to bed.
Perhaps.
Not being able to sleep when you are in bed on your own is a bit
horrid, but you can seek comfort in midnight feasts and bad TV (a very
good reason to be single if you ask me). Not being able to sleep when
the person lying next to you in VERY MUCH asleep is a disaster... and
despite my best efforts to wake him (bouncing around, cuddling, pouring
water over him, opening the french window and allowing the noise of
London to bounce of the walls) the boy was not for stirring.
I hate being awake at about 3am (late drunken clubbing nights excepted)
as I always feel so small and scared and like the world is too big, and
that I am going to fail or, perhaps worse - die. You become very aware
of your own mortality when all the world is still. You feel terribly
lonely.
So, at about 5.30, I could bear it no more and wandered outside onto my
balcony to watch London. My house is a 4 story affair on a raised area,
and so I got the benefit of a very sleepy and faded London spread out
in front of me. The Thames Link Train rattled past down below and I
could see the people on it. They were probably going somewhere exciting
that day - it was too early for anything other than adventures. To my
right, I could see all of the houses of West Hampstead with a strange
pinkish light behind them and I remembered a long forgotten quote from
Homer about Dawn showing her rosy fingers. She really was this morning.
Lights were blazing in the hotel to my left (because in hotels nobody
ever makes you go to bed) and I wondered for a tiny moment if I should
go there to find some people to play with... but instead, the huge
carpark had two cars in it and I spent a little time making up stories
about who they belonged to.
A tube rumbled past, and it was empty.
Finally I decided that I needed to go back to my warm bed (and my
now-very-cross boy) as sleep and I finally made friends and he
embraced me once more.
And I thought again how small I was in the big world of London. And I was glad.
You do the maths.
£2 of Pick 'n' Mix + 1 Hangover = Feeling very very sick
Agggghhhhh
School starts tomorrow...
Absolutely terrified. Not sure what to expect... I better iron my shirt anyway in preparation...
Where the fuck is my iron?
Oh yes. I haven't actually bought one yet.
FUCK.
Bring it on.
My classroom walls have been stripped and covered in gaudy paper, I
have photocopied enough paper to reduce an environmentalist to tears, I
have been neat and tidy and behaved exactly within the ethos of the
school, I have flash wiped everything that has come within 20
centimetres from me....
Now - I can do any more... so tomorrow, little boys - do your worst!
Well....
...their worst turned out to be (so far at least) pretty good!!!
The boys were charming. Sweetie pies even - if 15 year olds could ever be such a thing?
It feels a bit odd... like a big hoo ha over nothing. But then I haven't had the 6th form yet - and they are big giants!!