Drowning

Yesterday I was at breaking point by about 3pm. I was working a 14 hour day with five hours remaining, it didn't matter what I poured down my throat, I could still feel every morsel land at the pit of my empty stomach, the echo rumbling around my insides. And I was tired. So tired. That all said, there must be something different in me, it's like an out of body experience watching me walk away from the many opportunities to just give up.

I popped to the shop on the way home from work and not only did I not walk down the confectionary aisle, I didn't even realise I could have until I was on my way home again and thinking about dinner. (Okay, thinking about chocolate. Which I miss deeply.) Anyway, I walked through the front door at about 9pm, fed the cats and the next thing you know, there I am, dying on the cross trainer again. I just wanted to get it out of the way, I needed food and sleep and knew as soon as I got close to either of those the cross trainer would be severly neglected.

I managed another mile, a slow one, but a mile more than any normal day in my 'old life'. Then I cooked again. Second time lucky, I was trying a Tikka Massala, the recipe kindly supplied by my Matron on reception (what a sweet lady she is, like my office-mummy, ready to give me a beating should my hand brush the cookie jar). As before, it was ridiculously spicy, looked a bit off and actually made me screw up my face on contact. It's in the freezer now, I couldn't face it last night and ended up having a vegetable stir fry, one thing I can actually cook to an edible standard.

I'm just over a week and a half in now, and presumably, still losing something from somewhere, I'm just not sure where exactly. I can't wait 'til my trousers are a bit loose, or my boobs don't look like they're escaping asylum in one of my shirts. As my dear mother would say, right now I look 'poured in' - I've never liked the idea of drowning so much!