“I decide to review a book called Skinny Bitches and want to blast myself off to a third-world county where people are less fucking mental”

Last week at some point. 

  Today my picture got uploaded to our internal emails system. Now everyone will realise that the boring lunatic who pioneered a whole new set of auditing spreadsheets/is a bit over-keen on profoundly dull database functions is a female in their early twenties with a bald head, pierced ears and a large black mohawk. Oops.

 I actually have to have a set of special office clothes (ill-fitting men’s polo shirts and chinos). Apparently jackets covered in spikes and glued on feminist patches made from pen and bedsheets/skinny black jeans paired with rat-nibbled gamer t-shirts/camo trousers and leather jackets aren’t professional. I disagree, at least that way everyone can instantly tell I’m a humanities graduate - a certified expert in bullshit. I perform quite well in job interviews because I am instantly backed into a corner by my own uselessness and start babbling half-remembered factoids and self-congratulatory anecdotes – and are these not the founding principles of managerese?

 I’d like to tell you more about where I work because a lot of the people I work with are radiantly bonkers, but I can’t. That’s one of the pitfalls of working for CENSORED CENSORED 1%-pay-rise CENSORED.

 Anyway, as I recently accidentally exposed myself by confessing to not having weighed myself for the last six months, today one of my colleagues lent me a book called ‘Skinny Bitches’ and said something along the lines of ‘read this, you’ll probably hate it’. So that’s in the pipeline. Should perhaps also purchase a guide on How To Prepare For Your Coronary Thrombosis.

 She also suggested I start a blog.

And here we are.