The Diet by Luke James

It was the continuation of the diet she had been on for four months now. Every time he looked across the office she was there- snacking on something new, green and tasteless.

“I've put on a kilo! I’ve put ON a kilo! After four months of this”, she yelled.

“Jeez, don’t worry too much. I would kill to gain a kilo”, Loic said.

“Yeah, right. I really appreciate your comments”, she retorted and sat back down.

Something was different about Nat today. Things had been changing lately. Something was taking place in her life. It was something that hadn’t really happened before, and it was a long time coming. She was doing that thing- getting her life in order- or something. Her approach had been all wrong, and her self-perception misguided, and now- NOW- things were starting to look up.

Nat was having a lot more fun in a lot more ways. And a lot of fun in one particular way with a certain someone. A certain someone called Michael, an Irish boy she had met some time ago. And this certain someone seemed to be QUITE enjoying Nat’s new methods in the ways of fun.

But I digress.

Something was different about Nat today. Things had indeed been looking up, and to pepper this statement with a healthy IT manager-sized dose of logic, things still definitely were looking up when compared to the dark old days of only months before. But today something was not right with her.

Nat glanced at her phone for the fourth time since printing out a picture of Billie Holliday only 15 minutes earlier.

Still no response.

“How can I be back here again? After everything that’s happened, I’m reduced to looking at my phone every time the light reflects off it, thinking he’s texted. Pathetic”.

Nat was bothered. She had done something bad. She didn’t mean to do it, but the end result was that she had seen Michael turn away and slam the door to his car as he backed out of the driveway, and this bothered her very much.

"He just wants me to be honest. Pooh pooh. I've spent my whole life not being honest about my feelings, least of all to the people I care about, and NOW I have to know every emotion I feel about something the second it happens. Well it's not that easy! Maybe he should try some fucking understanding". Nat was very committed to her sotto voce muttering, having been classically trained as an alto.

She pulled out a celery stick, and as the bitterness stained her tongue, she tried to be honest to herself as a sort of exercise. To do so, she minimised the Wikipedia page opened to the entry on Hieronymus Bosch and opened Notepad.

“Hmmmmm. OK”. And she began to type.

1- I hurt Michael
2- I didn't mean to hurt him, but that probably doesn't matter
3- I want him to call me back
4- I want him to call me back so I can explain
5- I want him to call me back so I can tell him I love him
6- I want to tell him I'm a silly bitch who sometimes does awful things and that that's not likely to change
7- I want him to know why I said what I said
8- I want him to smile at me again
9- I want him between my legs again
10- I will never be perfect and I want to love me for who I am- stupid Nat with a chubby arse

“That last one doesn’t really seem to fit”, she thought out loud, puzzled.

“Meh”.