chapter 9

Ian wanted to forget about his food indiscretions over the weekend. He declared a food amnesty. There was no be no binging and no starving. He wanted to go out and enjoy himself with his friends without thinking about food at all. Why had food suddenly become so central to his life?
He planned to go out on Friday night, but stuffing himself silly all day had taken it's toll. He couldn't wear what he had planned to wear because he was too fat! His trousers were tight and created a little roll above the waistband. His shirt was too tight as well, it made his little roll very obvious.
His plan B outfit was just as bad!
Reluctantly he picked up the phone and cancelled.
But what was he going to do instead? He was a bit peckish, but he was not hungry. He could do without another big meal.
He turned on the tv. There was nothing exciting on tonight. Friday night and nothing on the telly! What was the world coming to?
He got out his old PlayStation. He'd not played it for years! He had no idea why he wanted to play it now!
He grabbed a few cans and sat down to have some fun. By eight o'clock the alcohol had given him his appetite back. He picked up the phone to order a pizza. The trouble was the takeaway would not deliver less than one pizza to an address, it simply was not cost effective enough. He did not want the delivery man think he was sad and lonely ordering pizza to eat alone, so he did not just order two, he ordered three.
They must have been very busy beasuse it took nearly an hour for them to be delivered and Ian had drank a good deal more by then.
He paid for them still pretending there were others in the house. He was rather more than a bit peckish now!
He didn't bother taking them into the kitchen and plating them up. He took them direct to the sofa where he had been sitting and opened a box. His intention was to keep his leftovers until tomorrow. Could you freeze pizza? It might be worth a try because he had more than enough here.
He returned to the game he was playing. With his attention drawn away from the food, he started eating. Slice after slice. He loosened his trousers, not just the top button, but the fly itself. That gave him more room to eat even more.
By midnight two of the pizzas were gone altogether and the third one had had all the topping picked off it, leaving the dry pizza dough behind.
The next morning, Ian got up thinking something was different, but he did not know what it was. In the bathroom, his midweek acne was subsiding. His overnight beard felt softer. He though he might get away with not shaving this morning. Just as well, because he was a bit scared of using a razor when he was in the house all alone.
He did not feel confident enough in the kitchen to use the cooker, which was a shame because he fancied one of those big fancy fry ups. Instead he made a large bowl of sugary cereal with milk and sat himself down in front of the telly.
He was not interested in the news, he could not be bothered with documentaries or cookery programmes. He turned to the Cartoon Network and sat all morning watching telly.
At lunchtime he felt even less confident in the kitchen. He made himself a large sandwich, it was just as well as he felt less coordinated than he usually was. Something told him he should not be using knives. He left the kitchen with an untidy sandwich with lots of grated cheese and presliced ham. He had left the slices of bread whole because he had forgotten to cut it in half. he also carried a large bag of crisps. He put them on the coffee table, then returned to the kitchen for something to drink. He shied away from the kettle and did not think of just drinking tap water. He found a big bottle of fizzy orange pop and carried that into the living room.
In the afternoon he played PlayStation games. He did not want to play anything too much like reality or violent. Spiro the dragon was just about right. He didn't mind breathing fire at cartoon enemies in a fantasy world where all he had to do was fly about catching jewels. He'd forgotten all about going to the gym.
By six o'clock he was feeling hungry again. He couldn't cook anything in the kitchen. He'd forgotten about doing out with his mates on the pull. He just wanted to play spiro. He was wary about going outside on his own in the dark. After an hour he summoned up the courage to ring the pizza place again. This time he was worried about talking to strangers on the phone. It did not occur to him to worry what the man though at the other end of the phone. He placed an extravagant order, then he panicked because once he had put the phone down he did not know if he had the money to pay for it.
He was lucky, he did. Phew! That was a close shave!
He spent the evening eating pizzas from the box, playing computer games and drinking fizzy pop.
He was in bed and asleep by ten, leaving all his empty pizza boxes and used plates.
Sunday ran very much like Saturday did. Not once did he think about his weight or how he looked. Nor did he feel moody or angry. He was quite content in his own little world. He thought someone ought to have tidied up the living room from last night, but it did not occur to him that it should have been him. He had forgotten how to wash up. He did not know how to use the washing machine or the dryer. He had to wear clothes that were still clean. He forgot about having to make his bed or pick his discarded pyjamas off the floor. He had a shower, but left his wet towel on the floor and left the cap off the toothpaste.
He went to bed at nine that night. He needed a good sleep because tomorrow he had to get up early for... something or other. He could not remember what.