A Case of Gluttonitis

I am sitting here, my first day back in the office wearing a new year special purchase: A Sainsbury’s TU dress. The reason for this is that Sainsbury’s size 12 is VERY generous AND it has an elastic stretch in the fabric. Bliss. I have also compensated for my very apparent weight gain by paying extra attention to my make up this morning in the hope that this will not only detract attention away from my body but will also make me feel better overall. I have privately apologised to my body for the abuse my mouth has subjected it to over the last two weeks and promised to treat it better over the course of the year.



Indeed as most people suffer their annual bout of seasonal flu, I have suffered with a bout of seasonal gluttonitis. This year’s strain was particularly virile and the symptoms were literally widespread! It was definitely an air born strain and was caught by simply laying one’s eyes upon a piece of food with saturated fat content higher than 8 grams. I have however found a simple cure which involves attempting to put on the clothes that were worn 2 weeks previously. The shock to the system acts as a defibrillator and sends shockwaves to the brain in the form of visual images of fruit and vegetables.


I knew I had it bad, when on Christmas Day, amidst the chaos and excitement, my mum accidentally spilt the whole jug of gravy on the stone kitchen floor. This is the gravy that my dad has been perfecting over the years and had spent a good hour making that morning. Instead of consoling my mum, or helping to clean up the mess, or trying to prevent an epic scale feud once my dad found out , I was left standing there numb with shock that my turkey may now be dry. The one lunch that I look forward to all year round, that succulent meat with all the sauces and roast potatoes could potentially be spoilt.


My gluttonitis was fuelled by an uncontrollable urge to bake. Chocolate yule log and banoffee cheesecake were just a few recipes that were created. Another more subtle symptom is the paranoia that sets in. You become certain that people are now beginning to count how many handfuls of chocolates and crisps that you are taking. Eyes are glaring as you uncontrollably tuck in to your second and third helpings. Surely EVERYONE has noticed the piggish behaviour that has now set itself in full stride. The words ‘Some of everything please’ slip out without thought and become the stock answer when confronted with the host’s question of ‘Emma, what would you like?’


After the meal, thoughts are channeled to the next eating occasion and there is a slight disappointment that the festive feast has come to an end. And then it happens, those trousers that were your emergency larger pair, are suddenly too tight. You catch a glimpse of a photo that was taken where you did not have time to perfect your contorted pose by adopting the position you have perfected in order to give the illusion of being slim. Your chins are on display and there is an extra midriff roll. Oh dear. This realisation only lasts until the next meal and you know deep down that until the date starts with 2013, the gluttonitis will not die down.


So now it is 2nd Jan 2013 and yes I do feel much better. The sight of a cookie did not trigger any greedy behaviour and I managed to decline it. It seems that the strain of gluttonitis affected most people in the office too but I am convinced not to the same degree as mine.


Ironically it is when people say ‘ oh you look well’ that it confirms you definitely have gluttonitis!






One Response to A Case of Gluttonitis

  1. Lindy says:

    Xmas Day in the Workhouse (Read Emma’s mum’s version of Xmas Day here!)

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