The pariah you are when you eat healthy

And it has everything to do with an egg

At 11 o'clock my stomach starts to grumble. The belly signals in Morse code: give.me.food. And I obediently do that, two boiled eggs to be exact. Just peel them, a little pepper, a little salt, halve the eggs and enjoy. But since I've been doing that, I feel like a pariah.

May knows that I am on a diet, because she is joining in, and I try to eat my eggs in such a way that not too many colleagues can take offense at my egg behavior. But on Monday I had my freshly peeled egg ready for take-off, I dipped it in some seasoning and just as I took a bite, Lil appeared next to me. She started a story, to which I couldn't respond, because: egg everywhere and suddenly she sees the situation on my desk. ‘Ooooh, you're eating egg,“ she exclaims. This was accompanied by a significant frown, a slight step back, and a tone of voice that would send all the eggs straight out the door. Lilian has something against eggs. People have something against eggs. I mean it. One person scrunches their nose in disgust, another subtly turns their head away. I am a pariah because I eat healthy. There I go again.

So on Wednesday I went for coffee at LotteLust, there was a modest sweet treat waiting for me and I had to say no. I never say no (to food that is), but since Richard and Sam have been The Gym Republic in my life, I do. I exercise four times a week, all my limbs have sought contact with me to protest and ask if I want to stop with that nonsense, my burpee doesn't look as slick as May's (I find those things terribly difficult), but I do go. Afterwards my head is so red that I can't even properly attribute it to a cute blush and I dash out of the gym for fresh air, but hey, I do go...

Another thing. The bell rang in the editorial office and in came the most divine cake, a gift from Uber Eats, a red velvet from De Drie Graefjes. So phenomenally delicious that I would want to lick the white off, no joke. I stayed strong and meanwhile everyone looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind. I walked very confidently to the fridge, filled my plate with pickles, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, and a slice of goat cheese...

On the weekend I indulge myself with wine, a stray cigarette, and a stalk of celery (or maybe an occasional boiled egg). I promise. I have to stay a little true to myself.