It’s Friday. I’m sitting at my desk at work, drumming my fingers on the keyboard, trying not to think about how germy it is and counting down the minutes until home time. What is it I’m most looking forward to about the end of the day? I’m excited to get home, kick my shoes off, change into my Pokemon PJs (sexy, I know), stick on some telly and tuck into some Friday night snacks.
If you’re on a diet and you manage to stick with it EVEN ON A FRIDAY, congrats. I applaud you 👏🏻 But that’s just not me. Even if I have great intentions on a Monday, by the time Friday rolls around I’m absolutely buzzing at the idea of getting home and cracking open a can of strawberry cider (the hard stuff), a bag of Pop Chips (bangin’, btw), a pot of sour cream dip (the champion of dips) and a bag of Maltesers (a classic, can’t go wrong). I’d love to say I share all of this with my boyfriend, but… Well, we might share the dip.
And you know what? I don’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with that! Okay, so maybe we’re a bit greedy. We could probably lose the chocolate… But that’s besides the point, the point is that when I get home on a Friday evening, I’m exhausted. And I’m excited for the weekend. I spend every week day eating packed lunches and making healthy, nutritious dinners, by Friday I want to feel like I’m off duty. And, I’ll admit it, I feel like I deserve a treat just for getting through another bloody week of work.
So you can keep your salads and soda water. Honestly, well done to you if you stick to it and, hey, during the week I’m right there with ya. But as soon as that clock hits 5pm on a Friday, my weekend has oh-ficially begun. Don’t judge me and my snacks, just leave us in peace!