I feel so dirty, I just ate plain unseasoned chicken straight out of a packet. My only saving grace was that I bought it from M&S. That, and I'm doing it for the diet, the demanding, all consuming diet (honest).
Today was the first day the hunger really took hold. Everywhere I looked I saw people eating pizzas or microwave meals or Starburst. Every where I heard them talking about food, 'what did you eat last night?', 'what are you eating tonight?' Who gives a toss! Nowhere was safe not even the toilet where I heard mention of a eclair sized poo. Why eclair? Surely there are better things you could use to describe the little gift the previous user of the cubicle had left in situ. I despair! Then the Train home, how bad can that be, eh? I open my book and read a whole chapter on the preparation of a feast... I was nearly eating the pages, the woman opposite readin 'Eat, pray, love' nearly got a slap and the kid eating a doughnut nearly got thrown from the carriage. As the train pulled into Greenwich I'd starting to digest my own tongue.
So yes, I got home hungry as hell and ate chicken straight from the pack like a caveman. Admittedly a caveman with great natural looking lowlights, fine threaded brows and a flawless skin regime. But, like a caveman non the less. My choice of barbaric meat manna wasn't ill-devised. It is the best high protein low fat option if I am still intent on keeping my gym date tonight. That gym suddenly seems so far away now I'm sat on the sofa with Ellie-cat pinning me down. So comfortable. I wonder what's on TV? I'm allowed to let the chicken breast settle first, eh?
Ok... I'm getting up and I am going to the gym... I refuse to sit here and get fat(ter). And when I return I might treat myself to a poached egg!