Chapter 1 - Corporate wonder woman

My whole life, I've strived for perfection. I know it's cliche to say good isn't good enough, but it's a motto I've chosen to live by. "Nobody simply wants to be average", a quote a gave to Forbes during one of the many feature articles they've interviewed me for over the years. If I remember correctly, the article was called "Mandy Cromwell: The Corporate Wonder Woman".

And just like Wonder Woman, I really do have it all. Money, power, success. And of course, my stunning beauty. A body that has appeared on countless magazine covers as the ideal for the modern working woman. Tall, lean, and with curves in just the right places. I look more like a model playing dress-up than the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, something I'm always happy to flaunt in front of my dumpier looking peers.

I don't want to say they're ugly. A lot of them were pretty back in the day, though it's quite clear that none have handled the stress of the job as well as I have. The crow's feet, gray hairs, and bags under eyes show their age and cigarette use. Puffy faces and rounded bellies make their reliances on alcohol and comfort food all too apparent. I'm surprised some of these women don't get stuck in their office chairs, with their wide hips and lumpy asses spreading their ample figures out when they sit.

None of these women have time to make it to the gym. Not that I can blame them. Running a business is hard, especially when you have a family to take care of as well. I myself never go to the gym, but I can't have anyone know that. If any of those cows knew my secret, then they'll surely try to steal it and I wouldn't want the extra competition. I'm always the belle of the ball. Some of them might be richer or smarter or more accomplished, but none of them look better than me. The fact that I can make these billionaire bitches jealous as I make their husbands jaws' drop like clockwork whenever I walk into a gala in a tight dress is one of my greatest joys in life.

The truth is, I'm not all that different from these women. I have my vices like anyone else. When I first got an executive position, the new workload stressed me out immensely. I was named Vice President of Corporate Affairs at 28 years old. I was way out of my depth and constantly worried about failing. To deal with my growing anxiety, I turned to food; a crutch I had leaned on heavily in college. When I was going for my MBA, I put on 30 lbs. I graduated with honors, but could barely fit into any of my clothes.

When I got hired at VariCom, I made an effort to make it to the gym and eat more than the cheap, greasy food that I relied on in school. And for awhile, I was living a pretty well-adjusted life. I worked during the day, hung out with friends, went on dates, stayed in shape; all the things a girl in her twenties should be doing. But then I get a promotion out of the blue and all that stuff goes away.

My life became nothing but work. I stayed late at the job every night. Half the time, I fell asleep on the couch in my new office. I stopped going out and my love life quickly became nonexistent. Worst of all, the added responsibility and pressure made me desperate for some sort of release. And that release came in the for of takeout.

It started off small. Grabbing an extra donut or two from the break room. Ordering a large Sesame Chicken combo instead of the medium at lunch. But it quickly started to devolve into something more. The relief I got from eating while working on a big project was the only thing that kept me going. Some people drink. Some people smoke. Some people do drugs. I ate pizza, and lots of it.