So here I am, slumped on the sofa in my leggings and dinner-stained t-shirt, eating my way through yet another bargain price Easter egg when I catch a glimpse of myself in the switched off TV. At first I convince myself that the TV has turned itself on and I’m halfway through a Wayne and Waynetta sketch, before I realise that’s not Kathy Burke. That’s me. I’m Waynetta. Sitting there cocooned in a blanket, hair shoved up on top of my head in a bid to avoid washing it, dropping chocolate crumbs everywhere, I am a vision. A feast for the eyes.
Does this image make me want to want to change? To ditch the chocolate and start drinking green tea? Hell no. It makes me want to snatch the next Easter egg from the fridge and crawl even further under the duvet. I’m in denial you see and do my best to conceal my inner fattie, a task becoming increasingly more difficult the fatter I get on the outside. I’m in a constant state of despair about my ever increasing waist line whilst fighting a losing battle with my food addictions. Unfortunately, though, I’m not addicted to celery. Or carrots. Or cabbage. I like coleslaw though and that’s kinda the same thing right? No, you’re right, it’s not. I have issues with junk food. Pizza, McDonalds (screw you Ronald), chocolate, crisps, they’re always there to guide me down the dark path of temptation, away from the light of the chia seed brigade and towards the never ending tunnel of doom. Once I’m on that path I find it very hard to turn back, as I think is the case for most of us.
I eat well some of the time, in some cases more often than not, but I quite simply can’t say no to the bad stuff. There’s balance – porridge and fruit for breakfast, salad for lunch, chicken and veg for dinner then a small bar of chocolate as an evening snack, for example. Then there’s me – porridge and fruit for breakfast, salad for lunch, a large Domino’s pizza with chicken strippers for dinner then a share size bar of chocolate to finish it off. That’s not balance, that’s being a greedy fat pig. Oink Oink.
At the beginning of the year I vowed to not go on a diet and I’m sticking by that. Diets don’t work, at least not for me. I’m an intelligent person and I know what’s good for my body and what’s not. Domino’s, I love you, always have, always will. But you are not my friend and my feelings for you are unrequited. For you do not love me. Instead you treat me badly, making my clothes tighter and my chins multiply with every slice of you I consume. You are bad. But oh so good. Who can resist a glistening pizza, cheese oozing into the sauce with slices of pepperoni winking naughtily at you? STOP IT PIZZA!
I’m not saying goodbye to pizza, for I can’t quite summon the strength for such a commitment, but I’m really not feeling the Waynetta look right now and need to try to eat better. At least until Friday. And once this last Easter egg is finished.