day 3
day 3
I’ve always been an emotional eater. When I’m happy: a pastry, sad: a chocolate orange – think it’s the satisfying crack you need to break into it – heartbroken, just a lot of whatever carbohydrate I can get my little paws on. Crusty bread, flecked with the promise of long summers laid out on the beach, dunking it lavishly into bowls of olive oil and balsamic, till it drips down your fingers. Well, that’s what I envision I’ll eat when I’m sad... Normally, it’s a phat (spelling * ph) bowl of pasta with grated cheddar cheese and an offensive amount of butter that I eat straight out of the pan, occasionally making it absolutely hammered, and somehow not burning myself on the vats of boiling water which I always manage to get distracted and turn away from JUST AS they boil over and wreck chaos on my silly little induction hob.
I felt a little blue today. Think it’s all the pointless fantasizing about my zoom professor. What is it about that power dynamic? I swear everyone lowers their standards by at least 50% in any kind of teacher/ student scenario. This teacher in my writer’s class... let’s call him something sexy, soft and mysterious… Jonah has a soft south African accent and is the kind of guy who reads a lot of feminist books, but still won’t go down on you if you haven’t had a wax. You know who I mean. Let’s just clear one thing up kiddies, when it comes to body hair anyone who has the honour, NAY, the privilege to be within breathing distance of your vagine, peen or otherwise should be so fecking honoured to be INVITED to the party, that how it’s decorated is frankly none of their business.
But back to Jonah. Basically every session I tune out what he says, and let the sound waves wash over me in South African ASMR. He had buttery pancakes for pancake day this week. After that sweet announcement I then devote probably about 40% of the session picturing the pancakes, or Jonah and I having the pancakes, or me being the pancake?? There are worse ways to die. He says they had “proper American ones!” but a day early because his girlfriend got the day wrong…. So charming! Irreverent! A manic pixie dream girl in the making. I try not to think about them having sex. Any session where he absent-mindedly pushes his plaid shirt up his arm…. I temporarily black out and regain consciousness when I have to think of words to say, in an order that makes sense, said with some kind of expression. Don’t think he’s noticed…. I’m an excellent bullshitter, usually, anyway, when I’m not so flustered...
Any session where he absent-mindedly pushes his plaid shirt up his arm…. I temporarily black out and regain consciousness when I have to think of words to say, in an order that makes sense, said with some kind of expression.
Felt like I needed something which would take the edge off this dull ache today. I’m constantly hungry at the moment, which honestly feels like a metaphor FAR too on the nose to be pleasing. So I found it hard not to do my usual thing of loading up with snacks at the corner shop and eating my way through a family sized chocolate bar, Cadbury nut, obviously, I’m not an animal and then inevitably crunch my way through an almost painful amount of salt and vinegar Pringles, what do they put in these?? Bleach? Anyway, I love it. It’s unbelievably salty and absolutely not related to the potato in any way shape or form but is still totally delicious. Especially the little crumbs at the end when you upend the tube into your mouth and hope that everyone’s too polite to notice….
Is it possible to be a food addict? Probably. Considering my first ever email was tiff_chocolate_lover@hotmail.com it seems virtually inevitable.
If you’re feeling in any way un/satisfied at the moment, food, sex, body or brain related, feel free to drop me a voicenote here.