The carb OD

Forgive me, my dear readers for I have sinned.

In my head I am slim and sophisticated, in control of my animal instincts. In my head, I don’t eat carbs. In my head, I don’t act like I am a germemish. (Azeri for somebody who had never seen anything in life, you know)

I have to explain that I was supposed to be on holiday this week. I took some days off to enjoy the peaceful company of my mother and daughter, speaking some Russian, eating some tasty Azeri dishes…You know. The kind of stuff a Scary Azeri might be looking forward to, while her English husband is working away.

Unfortunately (1), management wants me to be in charge of Quality. Management thinks it is funny, since I have an MBA.

Despite having never had any problem with bullshit subjects in business school, such as (no offense) HR or Marketing, I have to admit I find the whole quality thing absolutely soul-destroying.
I am not going to even try to explain to you what it is.
Firstly, I would have to understand it well enough to explain it. But more importantly, it would be cruel and unfair.

Unfortunately (2) this very important Matrix system training was scheduled for today. And management made it pretty clear that I should attend, since I was (theoretically) in charge. So I came in for that.

Oh, it was bad. From 9am till 1pm I sat there, watching a consultant with a very bad hay fever (She’d say it was a hay fever, wouldn’t she?) open and close her glossy lips.

I don’t remember much, except for checking email on my phone, occasionally thinking- I know that already! Just tell me what the hell this new Matrix system is!

Suddenly, I heard something I could actually understand. She announced she was going to wrap up soon, as sandwiches now arrived.


Sandwiches?

These days, I try not to eat bread. In fact, I try to eat very little carbs. Carbs are pure evil, according to Dr. Atkins and celebrities. And even my sceptical husband discovered the diet works when he himself dropped off over a stone in two weeks.
So I did not need to hear the word sandwiches when both my body and soul had already been weakened by the experience of Matrix training.

The last time I felt this hungry and exhausted was after I had given birth almost 4 years ago. That morning, sitting on my hospital bed, I kept eating like a horse.

And that’s what happened to me today.

Our (male) admin assistant, who sat next to me, had about 4 of those fresh and soft triangles. I had 7. That is seven in case you think it was a typo.

It was like I was taking revenge for my wasted life. For the 4 hours I could have spent actually living it. I wanted them to pay for my agony.

I poured a cup of coffee but noticed a camomile teabag that looked good, so I pocketed that for later. I grabbed a couple of chocolates (Quality Street, of course! Isn’t that sweet?)

And a bag of Doritos.

I did not care what my colleagues thought of me, as they watched me go on a rampage.

They probably figured we don’t get fed at our training courses back in Azerbaijan. (Do we even have training courses in Azerbaijan?) They must have thought Azeries have no manners. And I bet some of them thought I was a ladyboy, because no woman of my size can possibly eat this much.

The skinny admin assistant laughed nervously, while delicately chewing on his 4th sandwich. And I went back for more orange juice (packed with carbs…). I forgot how good it tastes. I had 4 little plastic cupfuls.

What a day! On my way out I glanced around the room and grabbed a banana.
Tomorrow- gym.