Awkward things.

Dear Food…

on May 30, 2013

“Do you want fries with that?” is a phrase that can strike fear into my heart. Do I want fries? Why are you offering me fries? Do you think that I’m fat and obviously want more calories dunked in yummy hydrogenated goodness? Is that it? I was having a thin day until the McDonalds guy pointed out my jiggly bits to the entire restaurant. And where do you get off calling yourself a restaurant anyway? I digress… Well since you already seem to think that I’m morbidly obese with bells on, I’ll take those fries Mr. and I’m blaming you!

Ok, this may or may not have ever actually happened to me in real life, but the fact that people are offering me more food wherever I go freaks. Me. OUT! I’m pretty sure it’s not just me, it’s not like I have a huge sign that says ‘Feed me’ waving from my back as I waddle down the street, it’s everyone. Ask Morgan Spurlock if you don’t believe me, (though I read that he’s, rather bizarrely, doing a One Direction documentary atm, so he may be a tad occupied.) The point is that everywhere I go, I see Buy One Get One Frees, complementary chocolate bars with magazines and share size everything, which, btw, no-one ever, EVER shares.  Trust me, I’ve had my hand slapped enough times to have learnt my lesson.

Food isn’t just something we need to live, served at meal times, by our mothers at the table. Was it ever? Like really? Food is everywhere, food is everything. It’s the most available hobby in the world. It’s the answer to hunger, boredom, anger, sadness and periods. It’s always there to give our bellies a big hug whenever we need it, or want it, or just have nothing better to do. As a generation, we are not coping very well with life. Then, all of a sudden food shows up and is all like ‘Hi! I’ll make everything better!’ whilst secretly just making you fat and bloated instead.

Food is your frenemy, or mine at least. I love it, but I want to toss it in the trash and dowse it with bleach because we’re just not speaking right now, ok?! Cupcakes are that cool girl that everyone wants to hang out with, who just ends up making you feel ugly and stupid and not good enough, especially when you try to decorate them so that they look like some fancy Instagram shot, but end up with a fuzzy fuchsia turd. Chocolate is that boy that you keep running back to, even though he constantly tells you that you’re fat whilst force-feeding you carbs so you never leave him.

I think that our diets are reflections of our headspace. Sure, when I’m having a good day and life is bobbing along nicely, I may as well be Gwyneth Paltrow, with a smug look on my face and a belly full of berries. I’ve got my shiz together, I’ve got my five a day and I don’t eat after 7 because someone told me not to once. On a bad day however, when life is jabbing me in the back with a nail gun every five seconds, I’m every contestant The Biggest Loser has ever seen. I could quite miserably survive on fries and bread, trailing crumbs all over my bed, because I sure as Hell am not getting out of it today.

So what I am saying, delicious evil on my plate, is that we need to slow down. I am not ready for such an overbearing, intense, fattening relationship right now. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s for the best, no really, it is. You are an important part of my life, but I’m not appreciating you. By seeing you all of the time and being so full-on, it’s as if I’m becoming numb to you, I can’t enjoy you the way that I once did because you’re always available. You should read The Rules, like seriously. Treat me mean to keep me keen. I know that you will always be there for me, and I appreciate that, but I just need some space right now. And who knows, I might just get my period tomorrow and come crawling back to you.


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