So I've been working here for a few months now and lately I've been running around a lot, more than usual. Well, not really running, but moving at an increased gait while lugging and lifting heavy equipment around, which means that, especially for a man that is winded after using a rotary phone, I've been sweating a lot. Probably because my exercise regiment has increased exponentially to something I'm not used to, but an increase from zero to anything would probably be considered exponential. I've also been eating less since I'm not spending as much time at home which means I don't have easier access and time spent snacking out anymore. So imagine my surprise when the scale in the kitchen was telling me I've actually gained a few pounds. That's right folks, I'm drawing ever closer to the 800lb milestone.
Really, though, what the fuck? That's not how things are supposed to work. In fact, it's supposed to be the complete opposite of that. It's not like I've been ordering roasted butter sandwiches and lard soup at the cafeteria, I've been eating plain grilled chicken sandwiches. On wheat, no less!
I'll probably have to do something about the breakfasts I've been getting here, though, despite the convenience of the friendly chef knowing exactly what I want every morning and as soon as I walk in I can count on him whipping up my bacon, egg and cheese bagel with some hashbrowns. My alternative, however, since I'm usually in a hurry to leave the house, would be to start drinking the health shakes that my dad has been on lately. They promise that they will "smash my hunger," but I've tried them before, and that phrase only works if the hunger they're referring to is a slumbering beast within your stomach that, once "smashed," becomes a raging, writhing, screeching hell spawn that demands vengeance.
The most obvious suspect would have to be that I've probably been averaging an intake of 4 liters of RC Cola a week, but can't I be allowed that vice? Isn't it enough that I don't really drink and I don't smoke and I don't kill hookers (At least not in the real world) and I don't get my morning pick-me-up from doing a line of blow in the bathroom, can't I have this? Sugar and caffeine, that's all I want to hang on to. In the not too distant past I attempted to abandon my sugar water and tried to go with just water with sugar-free flavor packs. This lasted a couple months and I must have been going through a withdrawal, though not nearly on the Trainspotting level, I did get an insane craving, much like a pregnant woman on a hilarious sitcom, for Pepsi that absolutely had to be sated and then I was off on my delicious, delicious sugar ride again.
But today I start anew, I've stopped bringing a bottle of RC to keep in the fridge here, I am no longer filling my cup full of Pepsi or Coke or even Fanta while making my way through the cafeteria, instead opting for an arguably healthier choice. I don't think it'll last, either.
This wouldn't be so difficult if I wasn't so completely sure that if depression and hopelessness had a flavor it would taste exactly like Diet Coke.
-K.
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