I am sick of food spoilsports. I love my food, I have a brain in my head and live a reasonably healthy life - I do not need to be told how many calories in all my food, or how many grams of salt or fat, those patronising little red yellow and green markers going “should you really be eating this?”
My weight stays pretty constant, and I’m happy with it. I can gain or lose it if I try; I sometimes lose or put on a few pounds without noticing and either work to correct it or straighten my routine out until it fixes itself. I’m ‘fortunate;’ if you consider size ten a goal, to have a fairly high metabolism and a taste for healthy (ish) food. I rarely balloon unless on medication, but if I did I wouldn’t be that bothered.
Friends of mine who have been or are overweight, by their own admission, choose to eat unhealthily. They do not eat three mars bars on the trot (I swear someone told me they did this although I can’t remember who) because they’re unaware that it is bad for them: they do it because they want to, and I say good for them to an extent. As such, printing calorie values in big bubbles on the front of packaging does nothing. No one has been sitting there presuming a Toffee Crisp is a healthy option and then goes “256 calories? Really? I had no idea, better have an apple instead.”
It’s not people wanting to be healthy I have a problem with - it’s the nannying. I happen to think big is beautiful... not more beautiful than small, not less, just itself - but if people want to diet, they should have support. What gets to me is the constant haranguing of “have you had your five a day? Have you had eight glasses of water? Are you sure caffeine, after lunch? Holy god girl, carbs after midday, are you mad? Crisps?! I don’t think so. THAT’s not wholegrain, is it now. Well, you can put salt on that if you like...after all, it’s your cellulite, not mine...”
Yes, it is my cellulite. And I love it, and I love everyone else’s too. Every time I see a celebrity circled in a magazine for having put on a roll or two, I think good for you, maybe you’re actually happy and not living on cayenne pepper and lemon juice. In any case, I would rather see your lovehandles than your collarbones.
The bottom line is the people plastering ‘only 305 calories’ on my cous cous have no idea about the rest of my diet. If they did, it would not be “look, green light, only 305 calories!”, it would be “this is only 305 calories, so make sure you grab a banana or a biscuit or something because you haven’t had any breakfast and won’t eat til seven.” Not everyone needs to eat less, and it’s not for the Government to get in the face of those who do.
Ditto to the ‘daily health tips’ I seem to have accidentally signed up for. “We know it’s cold, but why not swap that large hot chocolate and cupcake for a skinny latte and a bran muffin?” Because I wanted hot chocolate. Plus I can’t have the cake or the muffin, so I’m going to have my hot chocolate with whipped cream, marshmallows, a flake and a shortbread on the side, and you can fuck off.
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