Isn’t it strange how your habits and tastes change as you get older..? I mean there are obvious examples which are a hundred percent to do with the march of time, like no longer pulling on your disco pants on a weekly basis for boozy Friday nights out with friends, or progressing from Radio One to Radio Two . By the time Friday nights come around these days all I’m good for is putting my PJs on and emptying my head of anything that belongs on the too difficult pile. I’d rather stick pins in my eyes than go out on the razzle.

One of the things I’ve definitely bought into as I’ve settled into my life groove is the concept of quality over quantity. When I was younger, it was all about getting the most bang for my buck, in fact much of the time I didn’t have a pot to piss in, so maximising the return on every pound spent was crucial for me, for a lot of years.

Over time I’ve slowly distilled my stuff down and surrounded myself with a much smaller number of carefully chosen things. My jewellery collection for example – I think I’ve mentioned before that I collected statement pieces for years. I sold lots of it last year and kept only the things that were special. Same with my handbags. I had dozens at one time, but slowly I’ve  changed the profile of my collection – now I wear only the brand that I love, and my collection is far more modest, but equally much more loved than ever.

So then, if everything else in my life these days is about quality over quantity, how come the same rules don’t apply where food is concerned? I had a ridiculous day at the weekend where all I could think about was devouring huge plates of food. It wasn’t the food I was preoccupied with, it was the quantity.

Driving home in my car from doing the weekly food shop, I was planning to cook a Sunday roast, and all I could think about was how much I could get away with eating. For some reason I found myself wanting to voluntarily walk into a food coma, you know like the type you get at Christmas? I’m not talking about wanting to cheat on my food plan, far from it. That’s one hundred percent safe. But, within my food budget I felt a real compulsion to eat until I burst.

That’s not normal, is it? It almost didn’t matter what was on the menu, I just wanted a ton of it. I wonder if it’s a comfort thing…wouldn’t that be the ultimate irony since in the hours after a food coma you feel anything but comfortable. I’ve been under a bit of pressure at work the last couple of weeks, plus all the excitement of the blog stuff, and maybe it’s that which is driving this compulsion to stuff my face?

I ate a whole broccoli tree, and a mountain of other veggies with my roast beef to the point where I couldn’t move. I was within points and yet at the same time I knew fine well I was flirting with a destructive eating pattern, because what I ate could easily have fed three people. I wasn’t practising portion control and I suspect even Rambo would have been overfaced.

When I get to the point where quality of food beats quantity of food in my mind’s eye, I’ll know I’ve cracked the code of skinny. Tell you what, I’ll bloody die trying 🙂

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