Awkward things.

A Serious of Unfortunate Food Choices

on December 19, 2014


Like a lot of ladies, I am carrying a few extra pounds. And when I say a few extra pounds, I mean call me Richard Branson and get my private plane, because we’re off to Necker Island. And like a lot of ladies, I get kinda bummed when I realise that lbs aren’t cash money, and the closest to a private plane I can get right now is stealing a Morrisons trolley, climbing into it and squeakily wheeling it off a cliff.

I am Rubenesque, voluptuous, bootylicious and all the words that mean fat that aren’t fat, because screw you, that’s why. And mostly I’m ok with it. That is until that horrifying moment when I actually bother to glance in a mirror. Cue shopping trolley fantasies. That’s when the diets start. Of course we all know diet is code for only eating a quarter of an apple a month until I fit into my goal outfit, and then eat ALL THE FOOD before someone sees. Probably not a great idea, but hey, I’m keeping the economy up. Where would we be if I wasn’t spending obscene amounts of money on maternity trousers and cake? You’re welcome.

But I have this friend. This MALE friend. Hey, no misandry here, just pointing out a scientific, anatomical fact of life. Anyway, this MALE friend, who is a MAN, is a GUY who seems to eat whatever the hell he feels like and has the gall to hang out in the healthy BMI zone like a complete bastard. Long story super short: I hate him. I have a complicated and not entirely legal plan to steal his thyroid, because that’s obviously his skinny little helper, right? He eats all this crap and his thyroid buzzes straight through it, letting him stay in magical happy land with all the Victoria’s Secret angels. On a yacht. Probably.

But is it that or am I completely kidding myself?

Well I’m glad you asked, my wonderful reader, because, for you, I decided to take on the terrifying task of eating EXACTLY what Skinny McBaggypants ate for a whole week. All in the name of truth. And science. And other good things that are likely to win me a Nobel Prize.

Day One

Otherwise known as the day I almost died from overdosing on food. I didn’t even know that this was possible, or to put it another way, I thought I was pretty much immune to food. I mean, I am good at eating it. I sit at the top of the league table. But day one was a challenge. It started off with stomach grumbling agony. I was majorly hangry by the time he decided that chips were a good idea. Damn right they’re a good idea, I thought, anything with the slightest inkling of being edible is a good idea. EAT ALL THE THINGS! And then he ate all the things, meaning that I had to eat all the things. Cue lying in bed with a kicking food belly, feeling very sorry for myself and regretting this whole stupid idea.

Day Two

Usually I’m not that into murder, but today that changed. How is it possible to go half the day on nothing but a sugar-filled coffee? How?! I’ll admit I cheated a teensy bit. Well, I didn’t cheat, I bent the rules slightly. Basically, I moved the food. I ate the same things as him, but at saner hours. So I had the sandwiches at lunchtime, rather than right before dinner, Costa between sandwiches and dinner, and dinner at, shock, horror, faint, die, DINNER TIME. I know, I know, I’m a maverick, but I’m also a hero, since I pretty much saved a lot of lives.

Day Three

Who knew that eating all the food in the whole world could be a terrible, horrible thing? Today I was exposed to the joys of carb-ing up. And protein-ing up. And fat-ing up. And caffeine-ing up. If it was edible, it was eaten. You know those days when the diet starts tomorrow? Cool, good. And you know when you go to a party and it’s a special occasion, so you eat seven packets of crisps, all the houmous and pretty much everything in sight? Yeah, this was those two occasions smooshed together, sprinkled with sauce of ‘Screw it, it’s Christmas.’ But it was a normal day! The food just kept coming, like it was a contest, and I’m sure I lost.

Day Four

I’m getting used to feeling like I’m going to die soon. Like, I think my arteries hate me. And my stomach. My brain is sick of it all and has gone on vacation without leaving a note. I am daydreaming about fruit and salad and delicious, delicious juice. I am plotting my shift to the dark side. I want to do a water fast for a year. I might go breatharian. Anything just to get all this sugar and salt and crap out of me. I feel like I’m built out of stodge, squished lumps of bread pasted together with a slop of yellow fat. I can no longer stand the sight of crackers. And I hate, hate, HATE whisky!

Day Five

Today was another horrible day. I am going to list my symptoms to adequately convey how much of a MAHOOSIVE mistake this was. Ahem. I am currently suffering from: Headache, stomach ache, backache, aching everything actually, tiredness, spots, major mood swings, the need to constantly sit down and glare at anyone who comes near me, hardcore negativity, and scarily vivid fruit fantasies. I would literally kill for a pineapple. I mean, I would usually only murder for passion fruit and truffles, but I would take a pineapple in return for a body. Or a mango. Your choice. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND VITAMIN PACKED, PLEASE FEED ME FRUIT!

Day Six

Today I cracked. After um-ing and ah-ing and ohmygod-ing, I decided to give up. I have had a constant headache for the past few days, felt like my feet were in imminent danger of falling off, and I almost fainted. I’d like to think of it as quitting in the way that you might quit alcohol or smoking or meth. I am saying no to everything processed and white and cardboard.

Ok, so at the end of five and a half days, I have gained half a stone, a skin problem and anger management issues. I suppose I learned what I set out to prove, and that’s that certain people have superhuman thyroids that are in cahoots with the devil. But I also learned something WAY more important than that, which is that I am not jealous. I don’t want to survive on chips and bread and pies. Not even if I had the magical ability to stay super skinny with it. Because after less than a week I can tell you that the food I’ve eaten is crap. If in such a short space of time, a diet can screw over your whole body and turn you into a walking ball of rage, it’s not exactly selling itself. So I’m going to ditch the frankenfood and revert back to my old ways. If you need me, I’ll be face first in a watermelon.


4 responses to “A Serious of Unfortunate Food Choices

  1. anthonyburt1 says:

    You’re gorgeous, shut yer face. xxx

  2. Abbi says:

    There is a show on TV in the UK called Super Size vs Super Skinny where they take two people with eating problems – one who eats too much and one who eats too little and get them to swap diets for three days in an attempt to “scare them straight”. It’s very interesting . Your experiment sounds kind of similar. I also learned from that show that skinny people are often just as unhealthy as fat people,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: