hungry for work. hungry for food.

In the past month, I have written a handful of bank ads.  Watched as other copy is re-written and re-written again by clients.  And have had my creative director spit headlines at me that he continues to regurgitate over and over.  He's a pretty brilliant guy, but he has a few lines that he falls back on regularly.  
The only thing I really have accomplished is managing to fill up my trash can on a daily basis with food wrappers.  My morning granola bar (trying to be healthy).  And my mid-morning Mt. Dew (need to be caffeinated).  My paper plate from lunch, typically a salad (again, trying to be healthy).  Followed by wads of chewed up gum and numerous candy wrappers (because, well, the salad was NOT filling.)  It never is.  No matter how much lettuce, spinach, arugula, or those curly bits of whatever that come in the bag of pre-shredded lettuce that I pile on my plate.  I add chicken.  A bit of dressing, and cheese.  Looks really yummy.  And it is, but I need to eat like three plates of it to not be hungry.
I am always hungry.  I'm pretty sure I'm a fat girl trapped in a skinny girls body.  But, I think she is escaping.  At least around my hips.  My jeans are getting tight.  And I can't wear some of them anymore.  I wait until my husband leaves to do the totally cliche thing of laying on the bed to zip my pants.  And all I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs ala Chris Farley, "I'M HUNGRY!"
Maybe I should work out.

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