Like a great deal of other females in the Western world who have the luxury to worry about things like this, I am trying to lose weight. .
I am addicted to health magazines which is in itself, very unhealthy. I know a huge amount about nutrition and healthy weight loss (red wine is very very good for you). I know what to eat, when to eat it, which angle I should be in relation to the sun to get the most benefits from buckwheat. I eat very healthily, my real problem is I eat too much of anything.
Especially after a couple of drinks, there is no stopping me. I pertain to not be a dessert person, yet if I try something (especially home-made pecan pie) "just to taste", I will keep "tasting" it, not actually put anything on a plate which makes me feel like I am not eating it and it doesn't count. But because I do that, I end up eating a lot and feeling very very bad and queezy.
I could eat most men I know under the table, bloody wimps.
Then when the Pecan Pie is long forgotten by my fellow guests, I creep into the kitchen like a burglar and pretend to be a good and helpful guest by washing some crockery and then...stealthily... I demolish a little more pecan pie. I felt like Bambi drinking water fearing the predators. I quickly rushed past them, to go upstairs, trying not to chomp with squirrel-like cheeks.
This is an adult dinner party for adults, what the hell am I doing here? I tricked someone again into thinking I was a grown up...again.(I missed a plane, had my passport stolen and was threatened by my gym for a missed payment all in the space of 4 weeks) This is a gratuitous picture of pecan pie:
Every month, I have an obsession with a certain food item. This month, it is roasted red peppers stuffed with anything I can get my hands on. Once, I put a small layer of mozzarella and then made an omelette mix with loads of herbs, chillies and pepper and poured it into the pepper and roasted it for 30 minutes, sort of like an omelette in an edible cup.
This month, I am eating spiced lentils, much to the horror of those around me. I was in the tube, to avoid anything escaping, I had to clench so hard, I was trembling with the effort, looked like I was having some sort of fit. Worst comes to worst, I attempt a controlled exit of gently flowing air and walk away like an experience shop lifter, without a care in the world. The following picture is entitled Lentils midair.
Wasn't me, honest.
I have also been known to eat a whole ball of Mozzarella with my hands, straight from the fridge, I bit into like an apple, my teeth sinking into that soft fleshy piece of heaven in my hand, the flavours penetrating my mouth, then I close my eyes and I am no longer in South London. I am in Sicily, I can smell the olive groves, the Chianti tantalising my greedy nostrils...
...then I hear Keith from downstairs playing the yellow polker dot bikini song. Merda.