Because staring back at me is a collection of green, leafy sadness.
Spinach. Broccoli. A sad, lonely cucumber.
Where is the joy? Where is the comfort? Where is the bloody chocolate?
I close the fridge with a sigh and yank open the cupboard instead.
Oats. Herbal tea. A jar of almond butter.
Fucking hell, what was I thinking? I took this New Me thing way too far!
My stomach growls in protest, as if personally offended by my choices.
And that’s it. I officially give in.
Fine. If my own kitchen is a health-conscious prison, then I’ll just have to take my business elsewhere.
Which means… the coffee shop downstairs.
Which means… cake.
Which means… Theo.
For a moment, I hesitate. Because if I’m going downstairs, I should probably get properly dressed. Maybe brush my hair. Put on a little makeup. Nothing dramatic, just a quickI woke up looking flawlesssort of situation.
I catch sight of myself in the hallway mirror and sigh. My hair is a mess, my skin is slightly red from the mini exercise, and I am currently wearing an oversized t-shirt that saysNamast’ay in Bed.
Not exactly temptress material.
I pad into my bedroom, rummaging through my wardrobe for something a little more presentable. Maybe jeans? A nice top? Something that says, “effortless but put together”?
And then, just as I’m about to reach for my makeup bag, I freeze.
Because suddenly, I remember.
This whole experiment is supposed to be about not caring what other people think.
And that includes not caring what the dashing coffee shop hottie thinks.
I groan at myself, dropping the mascara wand like it’s personally betrayed me.
No. No, I am not getting all dressed up for a man.
I yank off the presentable outfit and pull my yoga leggings back on—even if they show off my big arse and thunder thighs—and shove my hair into a messy bun. I march into the bathroom and wash my face, wiping away any trace of foundation.
And then, just to prove a point to myself, I grab my giant, fluffy hoodie—the one with a questionable stain on the sleeve that I think is from curry but can’t say with full confidence.
There.
I am officially embracing my dating ban.
I glance at myself in the mirror again. I look… comfortable. Casual. Unbothered.
I nod at my reflection, satisfied. Time for some cake and cake only.
5
Attack of the Ladybug
