| DAY FOUR Back in work today. I manage to sneak an egg in before I go, lucky me. I begin to wonder if I could bend the rules slightly.. the diet sheet says one egg, but not WHAT egg.. I am thinking maybe I could get an ostrich egg from somewhere.. that would do.. I have noticed that my belly seems to be grumbling a lot more.. like it's begging me to feed it.. The worst thing about being in work is the plethora of snacks available to eat.. simple things like biscuits or fruit.. I can't even eat fruit for gods sake!! I begin to hallucinate, I think I am seeing Kit Kats in front of me.. I then realise I am not hallucinating at all. There ARE kit kats in front of me. I leave the kitchen.. It's at this stage I have to point out I have developed some weird fixation with kit kats.. I dont know why.. but they are the one thing that is making me water at the mouth when I think about them.. So if I keep mentioning them, with their delicious milk chocolate coated around a tender, crispy biscuit... then forgive me.. Lunch is even worse.. I have to have a green salad with tomatoes.. simple enough, you'd think, but ultimately horrible on its own. I go to a local cafe, and explain what I need.. green salad. It seems the only things green they have are lettuce, watercress and rocket. So that's what I ask for. "Pasta?" says the guy behind the counter.. "No.. just green salad.. only green salad" I explain again "Coleslaw?" he asks me. I verge on crying.. So if that wasnt bad enough, I made the HUGE mistake of dousing the salad in malt vinegar. Like many things I have done in life, it seemed like a good idea at the time.. that was until I took a bite. I think my body physically curled up into a ball as it hit the tounge... My body started to wonder what I was doing to it. It had an emergency meeting with the brain, to discuss the situation. The stomach had demands.. it wanted kit kats.. I retreat to my chair.. Later in the afternoon I start envisaging my own death. I see myself just collapsing, and a doctor telling my parents.. and my mum crying saying "damn you eggs.. damn you to hell" like charlton heston in 'planet of the apes'.. while my dad just says "what diet?" I see images of fella blaming himself for my death,. and rightly so.. he gave me the fecking thing in the first place. I see the girls in work who told me so all sat around saying "I told him so.." The thing is, it's not the big meals that you miss.. it's the snacks, and like I said there are a lot around in work. They say that in london, wherever you are, you're not more than a metre away from a tasty snack... I also realise now how much I must have snacked before.. just picking biscuits, bits of cheese, whatever from the kitchen. Snacks. And have I learnt anything from my absolution? No.. All I know is I'd love a Kit Kat.. I saunter home at about 8pm, ready for my evening meal.. 3 eggs on dry toast. Believe it or not I relish the prospect, coz I have mapped out in my mind how I am gonna spread the yolk over the toast like some sort of amazing butter subsitute.. The only thing that could screw it up is if I overcook the eggs.. I overcook the eggs. But not peturbed, I spread the egg across it with style, AND penache.. 2 things not normally associated with eggs. I eat like a king, and begin to wonder if the shitting story I told you guys on day three was a bit too graphic.. |