DIEt.
I had taken a job at a coffee shop, and thusly found myself with an innocent crush on my Chris Martin lookalike supervisor (innocent, as I already had a John Cho lookalike boyfriend).

Erring to the side of rotund, I found myself very self-conscious about joining my coworkers in snacking on the sweets that are very abundant in a coffee shop, even though I was dying to (I would wait until the end of my shift and sneak things out). One day, the aforementioned supervisor asked me why I never joined in the collective nosh, and I quickly lied and said that I was diabetic. The response worked better than I thought, as not only did it create sympathy, it was also an implied justification of my huge ass. I started bringing salad to work with me every day to eat under the admiring eye of my supervisor, who praised me from time to time for my bravery in dealing with a difficult disease while the others stuffed their faces.

So one day we had this gigantic chocolate cake of madness at the store, and I had forgotten my salad, and was STARVING. I had decided to coordinate my break with when my favorite supervisor was leaving so I could sit in the back room and indulge myself. Six hours into my shift, the time came, and I was so famished that I couldn't even be bothered to get a fork and plate: I just shoved the fucking thing in my face, figuring that I could just wash up before returning to the floor, when I heard the most terrifying words ever.

"Hey, I fucking forgot my coat."

I whipped around in shock to see that a.) my supervisor had returned, and b.) my reflection in the giant back of room fridge, revealing that I had chocolate smeared all over my face.

He found the whole situation to be hilarious, but I was never able to look him in the eye again. Ah, well, it's what I get for being a fatty with a wandering eye.
(Fishy_Queen, Mon 28 Nov 2005, 4:31, Reply)