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  • Sam Avery

Lonely Mouth: Day 2


If you know you’re getting clean, you may as well have one last hurrah, right?


A final day of bulldozing more calories into your face than a grizzly bear who’s just been dumped by his girlfriend?


All before the majestic dawn of the mythical Start Tomorrow Diet (TM).


Seems logical to me.


But my problem with last hurrahs is that I don’t apply the requisite will power the following day, causing large parts of my life to just become an endless succession of disgusting, calorific last hurrahs.


And that ain’t good for your belly.


Or self-esteem.


One time just after New Year, me and my wife had decided to go straight. Walk away from the chocolate fingers. It was gonna be tough but we couldn’t live like this. We’d become the gastronomic equivalent of Sid and Nancy, eating whatever filth crossed our path.


So the diet date was set and the last hurrah planned out.



It was spectacularly disgraceful. A sizeable Chinese banquet that seemed to grow like a bouncy castle as we ordered more and more over the telephone.


The order was so huge that when we got to the restaurant to pick up our takeaway, we spontaneously both started making up names of fictional friends that some of the food was for.


‘The spring rolls were for Dave, weren’t they? And who ordered all these fucking dim sums? Sheila? Great.’


Because the idea that it was ALL just for us was just too awful to compute.


That’s a fairly big red flag that you need to sort your life out.


Anyway, day one proper completed. My lonely mouth is intact.


How did you get on?


Back tomorrow…


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