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My blog post

Christmas Day

Woke up pure early, as per.

Did stockings in Mum and Dad’s bed like babies.

Prepared carrots and sprouts like good daughter.

Drove to see the rest of the family in London. All of my dad’s side of the family were there so it was quite a big one. We drank champagne and had high spirits. It was really nice for everyone to be there actually, as that’s a fairly rare happening (especially as family live out in Cuba as well).

Then there was the lunch. A 20lb turkey (which still looked huuuuuge by the end of the meal; they will be munching turkey for weeks!). I feasted on my own lunch but developed a taste for parsnips and decided they are genuinely amazing. Felt like a bit of a turning point actually. Very positive.

Nap time/phone call time.

Present time – some money, which I plan to spend on some kind of magazine subscription … (otherwise I will just waste it on unnecessary items).

Drink more champagne and wine/be exhausted/want to get home/hurry up, Mum.

Home and MULLED WINE. Too much mulled wine actually, but it’s so divine.

SO. In conclusion I had an amazing Christmas this year. I look forward to next year when I can maybe skip the nap part, and enjoy and indulge on even more parsnips – and perhaps other items too. Everybody overdoes it on Christmas Day. So it made me feel a lot better … everyone should be and is allowed to do so. Accepting that it’s not wrong to indulge sometimes was a pretty powerful thought, I reckon. I hope everyone else had very neat Christmases and enjoyed their presents and parsnips as much as I did.

Peace out.

I felt very left out, which prompted me to make a very DRASTIC decision … I was going to try a parsnip. I picked one out of the bowl in the middle of the table and dropped it in to my Tupperware, examining the coating of honey and oil as precisely as I possibly could. I took a tiny bite, and OH MY GOD IT WAS INCREDIBLE. I ate the whole holy parsnip piece, and proceeded to pile another eight onto my plate. I genuinely had never tasted anything so amazing in my life as the sacred honey-glazed parsnip. I ate more and more of them, my family staring at me in both amazement and shock. I then asked for more and my father suggested that I might have had enough and should probably stop. I flew into a silent fury, ran upstairs and cried my eyes out, humiliated. I rang my boyfriend in tears for comfort, and then fell asleep for three hours from exhaustion, missing the present opening. It is a horrible feeling to have everyone begging and pleading with you to eat more constantly, only to have those same people tell you to stop eating when you are finally discovering the pleasure in food. It was both an infuriating and embarrassing concept to me. I understand that they guessed how bad I would feel after consuming so much, and they were probably trying to spare me from the painful emotions that would undoubtedly follow; but I just didn’t understand how they decided and assumed that they had the right to tell me NOT to eat after telling me to eat for so long! I was five fucking stone, for god’s sake, and all I ate was a few damn parsnips. They were all over double what I weighed, and had been stuffing their greedy gobs all day with piles of fatty foods. HOW DARE THEY? I would class this parsnip incident as my first binge, and there were many more to follow.