Friday, 11 October 2013

Winter is coming

And so life chugs on.  The whole job application process is emphatically Not Fun.  Although I had the weirdest interview process of my life a couple of weeks ago which circumspection forbids me from discussing but my mind is still comprehensively boggled.  Still, I’m through to erm, stage 3 of it and that looks like a ‘normal’ interview.  And I really quite want the job.  But I have an interview next week, one the week after and then my wine exam the following week so I foresee a long period without being able to relax, you know, with that constant feeling of impending doom hanging over you.  Drama Queen much?  Well maybe but I really, really don’t like either interviews or exams.
Am I stress eating?  No.  There is definitely some room for improvement but on the whole, it’s not too bad.  Am I seeing results?  PA HA HA HA HA HA.  Whaddyouthink?  Of course not.  And it suddenly feels as if winter is hovering in the wings.
I seem to have spent a scary amount of money recently on winter wardrobe essentials and it gives me no pleasure as I don’t want to stay this size, even though past experience says I’m likely to be stuck with it.  I bought a pair of boots, a pair of heeled brogues (admittedly these should fit even if the slimming fairy gets her finger out and notices my existence), a mac and a very expensive jacket (yet to be tried on and justified to myself as an interview talisman).  I bought one of those down coats on the basis that it’s warm – it looked shocking and I sent it back as I looked like a chubster wrapped in a duvet.  Which was accurate but not flattering.  And a parka thing which may or may not yet work out.  I have spent a lot of time lugging stuff to the post office to return.  I really hate buying clothes at this size – I buy with hope in my heart.  The things arrive and I’m afraid to try them on.  I finally screw my courage together and 9/10 times I hate them and most of all, me in them.  I pay to return the items.  Sometimes it feels as if I rent the clothes as a self-flagellation tool.  I am fairly confident that I have no latent masochistic tendencies and yet here I am, emotionally bruised.
Work continues to be crazy, frustrating, short-staffed, over-worked and well, crazy in all senses of the word.  Still, I’ve not had any cockroaches on my desk this week which means it’s a better week than last week.  And perhaps I’ll win the lottery tonight – it wouldn’t make me slim but I think the millions could buy me a fair amount of happiness.  And a cockroach-free environment.

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