This morning, my senior senior fellows, affectionately known as B1 and B2 or Whitey and Blacky, chided me about how I looked - "Jean, you now look like a senior fellow." My gaze went from them - two 250 lb, 6ft tall giants, with bellies jutting out of their torsos - to myself. Aaargh!!! So that is what i look like now. Awww! The freakin' mean bastards, hideous monsters who cant find anything better to do than bully me. Sir B1 and Sir B2, thank you very much. You break my heart, but oh boy, you are totally honest! I greatly appreciate your eye-opening but self-esteem shattering criticisms. Because of your insensitivity, child-like and refreshing honesty, I now realize how absolutely fat and ugly this training program has transformed me. A year after entering the program, I'm a glob of fat, a lipid-laden fatty streak, a plaque with a dense oily cholesterol-laden core. I look at myself on the mirror and I see a huge xanthoma, pale yellow and glistening with triglycerides. I have become the epitome of the metabolic syndrome I've sworn to eradicate.
In 12 months, I have gained 4 kilograms. Since entering this program, this Free-Food-Diet, the constant supply of free food, compliments this persistent threat of forever being unsalaried and penniless. The result was an insatiable appetite and a compulsion to be full all the time, in prepartion for the imminent famine - the famine that never came.
Broken and feeling like a big ugly loser, I hurried over to the drugstore and bought a box of Sibutramine and a month-supply of diarrhea-inducing Metformin. I have now brought down my dreams into one singular short-term goal - to be a genuine anorexic. I am 30 year old with one dream - to be pathologically anorexic.
Move over, Karen Carpenter.
(I may call the names but B1 and B2, I love them!)
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