My Cup of Tea

Tuesday night I went to the Burberry fashion show and afterparty – a star-studded affair that made me a tiny bit nostalgic for my old job. I didn’t miss the anxiety of feeling like I couldn’t come back empty handed – that I had to speak to the big name celebrities. (And last night there were tons.)

I slightly missed the sense of purpose I had at these kinds of events. I ended up spending much of the evening wondering what, exactly, I was doing there, because fashion parties aren’t exactly known for being welcoming. I did enjoy the feeling of not feeling conspicuous, the way I used to. Honestly, the thing that made me feel the most conspicuous wasn’t, for once, my weight, but my last-minute decision to wear a gray Burberry Prorsum evening coat – if anyone would know how many seasons ago this coat was, this crowd would! For the record, it was an ill-considered sample sale purchase (I bought it in the days when I covered parties all the time and needed a proper evening coat), and I bet half the crowd could guess I hadn’t paid full price for it.

I enjoyed the special Kooks set (I snapped a cheeky pic of their set list on my blackberry -- not sure why), and the vague feeling of exclusivity that comes with knowing that not only was I invited to the “hottest party in town” (whatever that is), but that I didn’t have to beg my way in – I was invited just for being me, as opposed to because of who my employer was. It was a little ego boost I sorely needed. (I know it’s a bit vain, but I also enjoyed the ego boost that came with having one of England’s most influential fashion editors practically shriek at me: “You’re so tiny!” Even if it isn’t meant literally, in the fashion world that passes for “You look good,” which frankly, is good enough for me.)

* * *

I’m at 39 days clean now, and I’m afraid to say it’s all just kind of working, but it is. And I am absurdly grateful for that.

When I say it’s all just kind of working, please know that that is very different than saying I’m not thinking about it at all. I am nowhere near that point. I still think about food a lot: what I’d like to eat and what I’m going to have for my next meal and maybe the one after that. And I have my danger moments – like when I wanted to eat about 20 more biscuits than the two I allotted myself today. Maybe – after seven years in this country – I really am becoming British, because I find a cup of tea helps a lot. I have mine with a splash of milk, and I find it incredibly comforting. Maybe it’s because I have to sip it slowly – it’s hot – but often by the time I’ve finished my desire to eat any more has loosened its grip (not sure it ever goes away completely). If it hasn’t, to me that’s a sign that maybe I do need to eat a bit more, and so I do. Whatever works, right?