I can see food in almost everything before me. A dog’s nose, juicy olive; crayons, sweeties; the sun, pancake drizzled with syrup; a poodle, candy floss. The list goes on. The worst is when the thing looks AND smells edible, like fruity smelling soaps and bath salts. That’s when I really have to restrain myself.
The problem with this object-food response is that it makes me think about food 90% of the day, possibly more. Even if I’ve just eaten and I’m not hungry all these sights and stimulants soon make the fat person inside me scream ‘Feed me! Feed me! Feed me!’ It’s the struggle of two selves battling against each other.
To date, my biggest test has been Russia. I saw so many buildings in and around St. Petersburg and Moscow that reminded me of desserts – giant-sized portions – from ice cream to trifles, and from cream buns to five-storey weddings cakes. My sweet tooth and the fat girl inside me were in full blown party mood for the entire trip. So I ate, and I ate, and I ate.
By the time I got back from Russia my skin was a mess and the top button of my jeans had burst open. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration but you get the picture. I’m still trying to undo the damage. But I might just embrace it instead. It’s certainly easier. Plus, with the days getting colder and winter soon approaching it will be useful in case we have a really bad winter, and I can’t leave the house. That’s not likely to happen but with climate change on our doorstep there isn’t such a thing as being too safe anymore.
So viva wobbly bits! Viva curves! Viva love handles! Viva fat girl inside me!
Now here we go:
St. John the Baptist (Chesme Church) – Barbie Wedding Cake
