I had thought the past two days that, since the "Big Fat Loser" contest was nearly over, that things might be improving around the office.
Oh no. Definitely not.
The conversations today involved three of the following topics (usually combined):
- sugar-free foods
- fat-free foods
- calorie busting workouts!
If I would have smacked my head against my desk as much as I wanted to, I would have wound up looking something like this:
I feel like I'm an unwitting observer to the Minnesota Starvation Study . One of the symptoms of starvation is mood lability , deftly exhibited this afternoon by my co-worker. She continually picked fights with our boss - which crosses the line from just plain rude to tacky. She's hormonal as all hell, and still won't eat chocolate.
The kicker, though, was when I went to use the shredder by her desk and saw her whiteboard (facing the back wall). Her friend had scribbled:
" Make me work out with you tonight. Love, The Fat Girl."
Huh? Say what - This seriously has to be the most messed up work situation I've ever been in- even topping my college newspaper. I had to almost physically restrain myself from erasing the note on my co-workers whiteboard and insert my own little nugget of genius :
"Stop talking about your diet. Love, The Skinny Chick."
Even the custodian is getting in on the fun. She said she was feeling tired and said that the only thing she had eaten so far today were a couple of carrot sticks and a banana- which we all know is really two servings of fruit .
Tomorrow and Friday are the final weigh-ins. One woman told her friends that she lost 17 pounds (wow! what a loser!) and how great she feels. I'm assuming this will be inversely proportionate to how terrible she'll feel when she gains it all back in a couple of months.
The formula for such a feeling goes as follows:
On Friday, all of the losers are going to celebrate the end of the diet with...
... drumroll please...
...a SALAD BAR!
Good lord. Get a grip people. I want to have a make-your-own-milkshake bar. Or sundae. Just to have my own little celebration, I went out to ice cream tonight. Quite tasty. But, alas, it's not lettuce so my co-workers will, once again, lose out. Pity.
I think I shall attend this last little get-together with this mug:
It's not too inflammatory...
...is it?
If I would have smacked my head against my desk as much as I wanted to, I would have wound up looking something like this:
I feel like I'm an unwitting observer to the Minnesota Starvation Study . One of the symptoms of starvation is mood lability , deftly exhibited this afternoon by my co-worker. She continually picked fights with our boss - which crosses the line from just plain rude to tacky. She's hormonal as all hell, and still won't eat chocolate.
The kicker, though, was when I went to use the shredder by her desk and saw her whiteboard (facing the back wall). Her friend had scribbled:
" Make me work out with you tonight. Love, The Fat Girl."
Huh? Say what - This seriously has to be the most messed up work situation I've ever been in- even topping my college newspaper. I had to almost physically restrain myself from erasing the note on my co-workers whiteboard and insert my own little nugget of genius :
"Stop talking about your diet. Love, The Skinny Chick."
Even the custodian is getting in on the fun. She said she was feeling tired and said that the only thing she had eaten so far today were a couple of carrot sticks and a banana- which we all know is really two servings of fruit .
Tomorrow and Friday are the final weigh-ins. One woman told her friends that she lost 17 pounds (wow! what a loser!) and how great she feels. I'm assuming this will be inversely proportionate to how terrible she'll feel when she gains it all back in a couple of months.
The formula for such a feeling goes as follows:
On Friday, all of the losers are going to celebrate the end of the diet with...
... drumroll please...
...a SALAD BAR!
Good lord. Get a grip people. I want to have a make-your-own-milkshake bar. Or sundae. Just to have my own little celebration, I went out to ice cream tonight. Quite tasty. But, alas, it's not lettuce so my co-workers will, once again, lose out. Pity.
I think I shall attend this last little get-together with this mug:
It's not too inflammatory...
...is it?