McLost

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I would SO love to be one of those people who lose weight when they are ill or depressed or under pressure or broken hearted or - case in point - suffer a nervous breakdown as a result of all the above factors. But no. God won't even throw me that bone (unless it still has some big fat tasty animal attached). As I am sitting here on my sofa typing on my laptop, I swear to that same unfeeling and discriminating God that my stomach is actually resting on the keyboard. Seriously. I can't even see the wee flashing lights that tell you your machine is about to run out of battery without physically lifting my stomach out of the way. With both hands.

I had actually managed to lose some weight since stopping drinking. Well guess what - I found it again. Apparently this is a common side effect of the truckload of medication I now tip into my mouth on a daily basis. And I sort of wonder why I care because, lets face it, I paid attention to Trinny and Susannah so I can do clever things with clothes plus no one ever sees me naked anyway (bar son no 2 who has absolutely no sense of bathroom etiquette whatsoever). Except that I am the kind of person who can't walk past a mirror without sucking in (some of) my stomach, even when I am alone in my own house...

I started off well today, sort of. I had to go back to sleep after dropping the kids to school (with no yelling and with a packed lunch instead of dinner money - yay me) and was out for the count until well after lunch time. Fair enough, since I had a relatively productive day yesterday managing to get an eye exam and get to an AA meeting. Then I watched some tennis, since I am supposed to do things that create feelings of pleasure and, ideally, get my heart rate going (Roger Federer -enough said. Could certainly stomach plenty of him, completely guilt free. I know, I know - he is married and has a pregnant wife. Fuck what am I saying - isn't that my type?..). Then I went for my 10 minute walk as prescribed by the (most recent) doctor to the filling station to buy Coco Pops (not prescribed) to eat when I have chocolate cravings. I had a big enough bowl when I got back to probably equate to at least 3 chocolate bars. I had a bath - I drew the line at washing hair, but still progress. Then I was hungry - again - so decided to toast some pancakes. Actually 4. And covered them in syrup. Wasn't enough. Toasted the remaining 4 from the packet - which turned out to be a near death experience because the plug on my toaster has no back on it and it took some manoeuvering in my sugar-haste to switch it on again without lighting up like a Christmas tree. Then, to my horror, I realised there was no syrup left. So I had to make do with butter and sugar. Not the same. Anti-climactic calories. What a waste.

Since then, the other side of my brain has kicked in. The savoury side. I have considered phoning Dominos, but don't have enough cash. And I could eat 2 of those McDonalds' 99p cheeseburgers, but the bastards don't deliver. And I am in my pyjamas. And not too great at the driving thing yet. And the McDonalds drive-through is probably a bit ambitious for someone who, despite the anti-psychotic medication, still gets sudden violent urges to scream at and assault random strangers for not moving fast enough when they are in front of me.

So here I am. With my laptop and my stomach for company. Feeling sorry for myself for being all alone and overweight in my big house where I could die right now and no one would even notice until I didn't arrive to pick the kids up tomorrow. Feeling pathetic because I received messages on my phone from 2 clients at work and immediately felt the need to throw up (which would be a handy feeling, for many reasons, if I didn't have such a phobia about it). Feeling anxious because I have been constantly aware of