Paranoia, paranoia, everybody’s coming to get me

I am my own worst enemy, I am my own harshest critic and I am my own mind’s paranoia which moves quicker than a black mamba, so quick in fact that I never catch my paranoid moments and have to rely on someone else telling me not to be so stupid. The current paranoid thought I’m working on is that people are going to start expecting more of me now that I’m shrinking. It may sound crazy to the average slim jim reader of this blog (of which I am sure there are thousands!) but I believe that this may just be the paranoid thought that turns out to have some weight and truth behind it.
I suppose the hypothesis is simple, as a fatty boom batty (as the Good Doctor calls me) I think people used to look at me and think ‘woah, that girl must have serious issues to have an arse that big’ and were thus expecting me to be entirely focused on food and stuffing my face, and to turn up for work covered in crumbs with a box of Krispy Kreme in tow. I always felt like I was being judged on an entirely different scale of achievement to everyone else as naturally compensations had to be made for my size (!) as if the fat jacket that I’ve been wearing almost since birth had clogged up my brain and made me a moron. I had one boss in particular, a snivelling little weasel of a man who always gave me the impression that he wanted to pat me on the head and hand me a cookie each morning when I managed to turn up to work on time relatively crumb free. I’ve been able to idle in life’s slow lane, pissing about and not really having any career goals while my peers steadily climbed their respective corporate ladders, got onto the property ladder and settled down with partners but perhaps this is where it all changes. If I continue to tread water in a job I don’t like without a degree and with no real focus is this where those around me will start to think I’m going nowhere, fast? Once I join the slim crowd it looks like I’m going to be expected to step in to the fast lane and sort my shit out.

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