Twee-dle Dee

Now, if I'm honest with myself, I could see it coming.

And you know what the worst thing is?

I let it.

The true realisation smacked me this morning, as I carried my lunch to the fridge:

Grapes (nothing wrong there)

Bread (still no qualms)

But here's where it gets ugly:

Banana Bread. I MADE IT, FROM SCRATCH.

Carrot and Coriander soup. I MADE IT FROM SCRATCH. And not only that, but I made enough to fill four containers, which I then froze. I'd purchased the containers purposely for this reason.

ARE YOU BEING SICK?

I AM

I'M BEING SICK EVERYWHERE.

Ask me what I did at the weekend. Go on, ask me. I trained for the Leeds 10k. I went to Ikea. I hung a picture. I sewed my hood back on my coat. Yes, I made the bread. Yes, I made the frigging soup. I sat around with people singing, I plaited my hair. I researched reasonably priced sheets.

I'd ask for help, but I honestly think it's too late.

It would take something terribly drastic to reverse what I've become. And I don't really fancy downing a bottle of vodka and snorting cocaine at work.

Oh God, what if I start knitting? What if I genuinely get the compulsion to knit?

WHAT IF I MAKE MY OWN JAM? And become a cyclist, recycle my glass bottles, and volunteer?

*Throws up again*