lunch break AND ONE


MORE THING ...


ET TU, PIZZA?


While many see January as the month of alcoholic and dietary austerity, office manager Amanda Tremell was hoping to buck the trend, with a little help from her friends…


My friends have really let me down this month. It’s rare that I say this of them, because really they’re a great bunch of people but this month I made a decision. I decided January could be my month to have fun, drink excessively and eat obscene amounts.


Amanda Tremell Office manager


Like most people, I spend too much time concerned with my consumption, be it saturated fat, carbohydrate or alcohol. But I exercise, I’m relatively healthy and really I don’t have anything to worry about and that’s why this year I thought gross over-indulgence would be an amazing way to start the New Year.


Alas, all of my friends are doing ‘Dranuary’ or are busy going to the gym every night, quitting carbs or shivering in a corner waiting to get over their nicotine/caffeine/gambling addiction. This means that to achieve my Fatuary goal I would have to eat cheesecake, drink wine by the gallon and smoke like a female Don Draper, all whilst sat alone by the fruit machine in my local, looking slightly depressed and ill. My desire for Roman-style gluttony isn’t that extreme yet, so Fatuary has failed. I have continued to eat spinach and I don’t think I’ve been drunk all week.


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There is one thing I am very proud of this January, though, and that is that I have managed to stoically avoid the gym. Let’s make this a thing, people – with reckless abandon and little care for the consequences, let’s occasionally not check calorie content, let’s not worry that one more piece of chocolate will make us look like a shaved darts player and let’s just love food. Because, be honest with yourself, food is probably the best thing ever.


This weekend I’m going to make a despicably rich peanut butter and chocolate cake, sit in my pyjamas and shovel it in to my face, because I’ve only got two weeks of this before I go back to being the normal me, concerned about bingo wings and back fat. Oh, joy.


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