What if?

Be careful of what you wish for, my brain whispers me. I know the brain is right.
I seems that, maybe, if everything goes well, blah blah blah, I may be promoted to non equity partner in two months. It's the step before making it.



Allow me a flash-back.
I started working in this specific Big4 when I was 22. I was the youngest, the silliest, the hottest, the skinny bitch who knew nothing but was willing to work VERY hard. I was assigned to a senior manager that we'll call from now on Humbert (Lolita?). He was very demanding, and in the beginning I went home crying a lot at night. Over the following months, B. broke my heart, and although everything seemed a nightmare, Humbert came to appreciate me and supported me at work.
When, not even having spent one year in the firm, I moved to the French office, everyone was angry with me at work, but before I left Humbert called me into his office and encouraged me to keep in touch and to make the most of the experience, and promised I could come back at any time.
Surely neither of us thought that I would come back working for the firm some 12 years later! But that's what happened about one year ago. The firm welcomed me back, and is willing to bet on me. I'm good, granted, but I'm also aware that they need to make female partners, and not many are well positioned as me and my two friends at work to make it :-)


So what am I afraid of?
i) my targets will spike - I know that this year (ending June 30) I'll end up exceeding by far my targets, but I'm cautious about how I can deliver more. Truth is, Humbert (who is now senior partner) is helping me a lot with my sales target. He will keep doing it - if he can. Should the internal political situation change however, his support may no longer be meaningful

ii) will husband be proud enough for me and not feel belittled? This may sound stupid, but hey, this is Italy. My man made it to equity partner - in a Tier 2 firm. Will it be okay for him to have a wife who makes it in a Tier 1 firm?

iii) as much as I want to make it, I know that the partner's daily job is something I like less than my current daily job. I wasn't born to be a salesman, I'm more into the operating part of the job.

iv) Matt, a friend who's one year ahead of me in the process (he'll get promoted to equity partner in June) is now 140kg. That's 308lbs for you Americans. He only uses food to sooth himself, while, let's face it, I am more creative. I (ab)use a mix of a bunch of stuff, most notably wine, pain killers, food, running (less and less these days), and to a much lower extent, drugs. But you guys already know my point: is this sustainable?

Long story short - I'm already planning to rent out Just Cavalli private club to throw the promotion party. I just need to lose weight. And I'm seriously considering a Liposuction.

I'm invincible, yeah I win every single game
I'm so confident, yeah I'm unstoppable today

Oh my heart

I came home to a city half erased
I came home to face.... what we faced
This place needs me here to start
This place is the beat of my heart

I was getting ready and packing my staff when my nephew told me:
"so I really want to try this acrobatics class, but my daddy said that I'm not cut for it"
"I guess it depends Luca. If you aim at the Olympics, whatever you're going to try, at 12 you are too old. If you want to be more agile, and maybe learn a couple of tricks, you should totally go for it!" While I answered readily, my heart was aching - the kid is 12, for God's sake, why does my Bro crash his ambitions? Sport is healthy for him!Meanwhile his sister strikes a mean one : "you must lose weight to do that"
Fuck the little bitch - she's not even really skinny.
Of course Luca turns to get at his sister and I stop him and send her out of the room

"How many of us just had lunch together?"
"Seven"
"Do you know who is the heaviest among those seven?"
"Me?"
"NO!!! Absolutely not! What does your brain tell you sweetie? First you are not tall enough - but it is actually me. You got much skinnier over the past few months, and don't get me wrong, it is good. You want to be more slim? That is fine, and you are right in paying attention to it. But look, you are not fat, you are not. I am definitely fatter than you are"
"But you are beautiful"
"Thank-you darling, that's sweet. But it doesn't change things - I am a bit on the fat side. I'll be paying attention in the next few months - the thing is, there's people like your dad and like grandfather who are naturally skinny, and there's people like us who need to pay a bit more attention. But you need to enjoy life, and sport will always be good for you, Don't listen to anyone who tells you that you are not meant for a certain sport - sport is fun, and you should enjoy it! It's good for your body and your mind, and you should try anything that you'd like!"

Lord help me and my nephew, he's only 12. And it's true he used to be fat, but now he's normal - granted, not skinny, but just two months ago the kid ran a 14km race with us, he's healthy now. What the hell does my brother think?

it's sweet, and it's sad, and it's true
how it doesn't look bitter on you
oh my heart, oh my heart, oh my heart!

There is a light and it never goes out.

…and if a double decker bus, crashes into us, to die by your side, it’s such a heavenly way to die.

And if a ten ton truck, kills the both of us, to die by your side – well the pleasure and the privilege’s mine.

Take me out, tonight, oh take me anywhere I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care

I don’t want to die fat. But I’d rather die while my husband still loves me. I’m so afraid he will get over me.

So many expectations on me.

Mine: get skinny, make it to the partnership at work. I don’t feel anyone supports me in those.

Husband’s: who knows what he expects of me? Get more fit, surely, Probably a kid, which I don’t want.

Mom’s: children. Stop working as much as I do. Gah

Dad’s: make him get younger (not joking). Do more things with him. Bring him to Nepal again. Oh dad, I'm so worried about you! But I also need to make my marriage work. 

How can I possibly make everyone happy? And myself?

ouch

and of course, eventually I got sick.
Usually I overwork, I get a temperature somewhere above 39° (102F), sleep (and sometimes puke) over 36 hours and get back to life.
I came home on Thursday from a long day in the west, knowing I was not okay. Luckily, when I tesed my temperature, I had muted the call I was on with my lovely American clients, because when I read 39.9° (almost 104F), a lot of swearing went on. Realizing that it was 9PM,I had left home at 7AM and I was still in a fucking conf call did not help.

The real issue is, despite aspirin, paracetamol, ibuprofen and antibiotics... things are not really improving. I spent two nights with 39.9 degrees (bad), and last night was better but the temperature is rising again.

The problem is not about calling in sick. The problem is: who the hell will deliver my 5 projects if I don't? my team? errrrr.... no. Let's face it, they're good guys but on two projects they are not even involved.
Tomorrow it's Monday and I'll be working from home, but to be honest I realize that unless I get better, I can barely function at 50% of my normal capacity (and I'm probably optimistic).
shit shit shit

How do I do it?

How do I do it?
Woke at 5.50 AM, washed up, squeezed my belly into white trousers an an oversize marine blue silk blouse, high heeled booties and ponytail.
I left home at 6.30, heading to the train station. At 7AM I was on the bullet train, laptop on, working. Started conference calls in French at 8.30, reached my destination in the North East at 10 and got into a meeting until 4.30PM. Back to the train station, hopped on the train again, got a conference call with the US (in English), one with another client (in French), one with my boss (in Italian) and another one with a French guy working in a PE in London (in French). In between I tried to brainstorm with the team. At 7.30 the calls were over and I started working.
Arrived at 8.30 in Milan, took a cab, called Mum, got home and started working again.
It's 10 PM, we have no smoke at home, I'm debating whether to wake up at 5 or 6 to get to work tomorrow (luckily from the office). I already know that my last call for tomorrow is scheduled at 7PM (thank-you, US guys for not understanding it's Friday night).
I've been eating sandwiches on the go and milk and cookies all week.
No wonder I'm such a mess.