I was thinking about this post for a while - maybe I'd make it my last post - it would be strong and victorious - if I could do it, you can do it.
Things haven't gone to plan
His name was Harry. He had huge blue eyes and a cheeky grin. I insisted on giving him my number as we left the city bar across the road from where I worked. I called Theo 21 times as I sat in the taxi with Harry. He didn't pick up. The next day Harry and I continued to exchange banter and he asked me to go for a drink the following Thursday. I could even stay over "if I wanted".
I was excited about getting Theo out of my system. I wanted to get drunk with Harry and laugh and smile and feel beautiful. I went to get my hair done at lunchtime and drank juice all day so I looked perfect.
We were going to meet at 6.30 after work. At 4.30 he texted. Just been given loads of work to finish at the office. Had to cancel - "let's rearrange for next week".
He never contacted me again.
I can't get Theo out of my system.
Last Tuesday I had my interview with Tony, the head of the department I want to join. This was the interview that I had had continual nightmares about and worked so hard for in all of my spare time over the last six months. This job meant everything to me - it was this or I quit, and they knew that.
I had taught myself so much since my original interview in January, and it was evident - I answered almost every question with conviction and passion and I know that he saw that and loved it. He was the kind of man that respected determination and ambition over all other qualities and those are the two things I have in abundance. At the end of the interview he professed his pleasure and told me that I would sit down again with the head of the London team and the head of a region sometime this week.
Despite reminding him twice since, however, this has still not yet happened.
And so to deal with the ongoing stress and anxiety, I have eaten. I have gone from progressing to vomiting only once or twice a week to bingeing and vomiting every day again. I have lost count of the amount of times I have sat with my therapist going over the 'alternative methods' of dealing with anxiety but I cannot remember them when faced with a black mood.
My head just shuts down. It all goes blank. The cyclical motor in my hand starts up and my mouth feels nothing and the food goes in and in and in and in... Over and over again, more and more and more...
And then I bloat like a balloon, try to hold in the gas from my cramped stomach, poke at my tummy, pinch the fat, avoid the mirror, pull at my hair, clench my fists and cover my hideous face.
So I pull on my trainers and run. Run away, run till the dripping sweat tells you you're punishing yourself enough. Run so the disgusting toxic genes pour out of you.
Run. Run. Run.
Friday night back to the bar where I met Harry, desperately hoping he'll be there, desperately hoping I'll be thin enough. Beacause maybe then he will realise that he loves me. Watching Theo out of the office window as he leaves with other members of his team, wishing I were part of that circle. That circle of fucking privileged private school city boys.
Bitter? Chip on my shoulder? Feminist? Woman scorned?
I didn't get the job. I'm handing in my notice today.
Hillary Clinton meme
9 months ago