A Diet of Happiness

Lettuce and cucumber today. Not even any cheese for this sandwich. Not even any bread for this sandwich.

The thought of meat makes me crazy these days. I feel like there is a wailing banshee trapped in my head and all she wants is a Macdonald’s.

It won’t be long now, I keep telling myself; won’t be long until the big day comes around. Won’t be long until I waste away and die more like.

I had never realised that dieting was so anti-social. Everything I want to do seems to involve eating: let’s go for a meal, why don’t we watch a movie with some popcorn, better have some sweets for the journey. It seems I can’t do anything because of this bloody diet.

I sit on the couch with a book half open in my hands. Reading would be so much easier if I could have a bag of crisps, something to nibble on. But they say if I don’t do it now I never will: you’re not getting any younger dear.

“Got any plans, love?” Asks James, his coat under his arm. He is off to the pub.
“Just relaxing and having a read. Might go for a run later.” Might chop the ends of my own fingers off and fry them in a little butter. Mmm.
“Enjoy that. I won’t be late.”

It’s not his fault he seems so inconsiderate. I haven’t told him what it’s like.

I flick the page unconsciously and glance at the words. I can make them look like a cheeseburger if I squint my eyes.

Perhaps I’ll just have a little digestive biscuit. It won’t hurt. I sigh deeply and shift, eyeing the kitchen door. No. no. no. Something to look forward to, think of that.

I slam the book shut and get up. I don’t care about the big bloody day. I don’t care if I’ll look so much better and feel so much happier. I won’t. I won’t because I’ll look back on the six months I spent sitting in a world of lettuce and cucumber and I’ll wish I’d had some chips! This is not life! This is food prison, torture by dieting. I mean, I even thought about going to the shop, buying a cake and disposing of the evidence in someone else’s bin. This is sad.

Fuck it. I’ve had enough.

Feet first I head for the kitchen. I feel a sudden weight lift from my shoulders as I begin to rummage through the cupboards. Cheese, bread, olives; a feast, I’m going to have a feast!

***

“Ginny? Where are you?”
“Mmm?”
“Hey love, how was your evening?”
“Great. Just great.”

I looked up at John, still blissfully full and warm. He looked down and smiled.

“I never wanted you to lose any weight in the first place.”