That time of year again…


Sugar free! But full of smug.

Sugar free! But full of smug.

It’s that time of year again. The one when everyone feels compelled to give up X or start doing/eating/being Y. Despite my best intentions I am as susceptible as the rest; reading about how amazing you’ll feel when you start juicing thirteen unpronounceable fruits, adding just a spoonful of £45 per ounce whateveritis powder, how anyone can be running 15 miles a day and getting up at 4.30am looking like they’ve just come back from a beach holiday and not like they’ve been lying awake terrified about getting up at 4.30am and fantasising wildly about Dairy Milk.

I did once give up sugar for a period of time. I like to give up things for Lent mostly so I can enjoy eating them again after Lent. Last year, I gave up processed sugar, including alcohol (sad times), dried fruit and most other fruit things. It was hard and I gave up giving up the minute that I got run over and had to spend 12 hours nil by mouth in Lister Hospital in a badly tied gown and compression stockings.

However, for a few weeks I did quite well. But did I feel better, people wanted to know. And I did! But after a while I realised that I felt better, but I couldn’t tell whether I felt physically more well or whether what I actually felt was just more smug. It was really hard to distinguish between the placebo effect of knowing that I was now a morally superior being because I was being so splendidly abstemious and thusly a better person or whether my digestions etc really was more efficient and less full of wind.

To this day, whenever I have tried to change my diet (usually in response to feeling morally bad because I am a fat, greedy failure, but disguised as wanting to ‘feel healthier, look after myself better’ or whatever fatuous gumph I had lately fallen for) I still can’t tell if I feel better or if I just feel smug.





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