Whilst society tends to take a “poor them” approach when faced with emotionally torn people who hit the bottle or indeed the town when distressed, a less empathetic opinion is formed for those that hit the pantry.
In my house, we (and I mean “he”) has fallen into the habit of going walkabout on a Saturday afternoon, returnng guilty faced sometime before dinner on a Sunday. Even though it would be easy for me to go down the “A phone call is all I ask” track, I’m not that predictable.
Or maybe I am?
I found myself consuming a bag of salt and vinegar chips (bought for his truly), half a block of chocolate and a litre of soda water (at least I had sense there) at 2 am this morning. In a slight panic based on ‘I can’t sleep’, ‘Someone might break in and kill me’ and the classic, ‘Do we have anything in common after all?’, I habitually and slowly consumed more calories than I normally would in a few days.
And for someone who has worked so hard to lose an initial 15 and a half kilos (34 pounds), I felt the shame of a self-inflicted giant leap back. So even if the distasteful image of a fat girl stuffing her face lingers in your mind, I ask you to think about what you do in time of trouble. Be honest.
But just quietly, if memories of hitting the gym for hours come to mind…no need to comment here.