Food and full stops.

The Rules:

Don’t hunt misery. It will find you.
Wake up and go to sleep feeling good.
Greet and part feeling good.
Actually call your friends. They care, even those you don’t expect to.
Like what you like. Don’t chase anyone else’s dreams. It is not a competition.
Do things you’re bad at. It’s all experience, and if it bombs, you can laugh at it.
Don’t use Facebook.

I have not eaten properly for two months. The average day consists of a Nutrageous, Cinnamon Grahams, (because that is their real name) a Tesco sandwich, (all of which have now been eaten too many times in a row and make me ill) and perhaps a packet of crisps or the odd ‘proper’ meal, prepared by the mama-in-law and re-heated at approximately 3:46am.

I have lost some weight – I wasn’t really checking before, but I am bruising more easily these days, and finding it harder to lift things at work. My grandma’s eternity ring is loosening on my ring finger. This morning I am seven stone four. The lightest I have been in eleven years.

So, as above is the new diet. I will massage, I will give roses, I will dole out detached, shy love to all. I will be courteous. I will be human. I am putting a full stop on my self-induced loneliness.

I can’t draw. I intend to fill my walls with scribbles of horses, sunshine, and other six-year-old fantasies. Quentin Blake is my new mentor.

I believe this will all contribute to a healthy waist-line.


After the Doctor:

Twenty minutes of exercise every day.
See friends.
Fill in this government questionnaire.
Classical Panic Disorder. Depression.
You are normal, and fixable.

Glasses on. Google on.


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