Since finding out about having high blood pressure, cholesterol and BMI, I have been wondering about my diet. So, what’s wrong with my diet, and why am I susceptible to gluttony?

Between Meals Denial

When the quack finished grilling me yesterday, I felt a bit indignant. Nearly all the food in our house is fresh and we rarely have things like take outs. I told the doctor the type of things we eat and how much dog walking I do. This left him a little bit perplexed that I am nearly two stone overweight (I still can’t understand kilograms but I did vote Remain).

Of course, what I didn’t tell him is that I can finish a bag of fruit pastilles in 10 seconds. Or that on the occasions chocolate biscuits or crisps are in the vicinity, I can’t just have one. I will eat them until I feel sick. That’s right folks, I have been living a lie. Because my main meals are generally fish, chicken and vegetables (I rarely touch red meat) I have trained myself that snacking doesn’t count. The bag of salted peanuts with a pint of London Pride doesn’t matter, I had mackerel salad for dinner.

Putting Waste on the Waist

The doctor didn’t get the following information from me either. If anyone within striking distance doesn’t finish their dinner, I will (disgusted at the waste) finish it for them. Their waste goes on my waist, if you will. This is something that infuriates Jennifer immensely (she has even called me a savage). It’s true as well; there is no other word for it other than gluttony. How did I become that way? I had this discussion with a long-standing family friend, Stewart, the other day. Stewart, who is seven years older than me, had received similar warnings on his visits to the doctor.

We came to the conclusion that when we were young, there wasn’t much food about. I am not saying we needed Bob Geldolf to come to our rescue, but cupboards and fridges would often be bare. They were certainly never bursting at the seams. Stewart described dinner as a time where if he didn’t eat quickly enough, his dad would have it. I had a similar scenario. If I looked the wrong way I would be staring at an empty plate.

Food Thieving Brothers

My two elder brothers (and my elder sisters, to a lesser extent) were food thieves, so I would eat dinner as fast as possible whilst constantly on the look out for predators. I must have resembled a blue tit on a bird feeder constantly on the look out for the local sparrow hawk. Dinner time was open warfare and the ability to eat the lot, at frantic speed, is entrenched in me. I don’t know what a psychologist would suggest but it has to stop. It won’t do, as I don’t burn food off like I used to.

If it sounds like I am trying to describe a terrible childhood, I am not meaning to. Stewart and I had a right laugh remembering how it was back then. Whilst it is not something I would inflict on others, particularly my own offspring, the battle for food survival was as funny as it was chaotic. It teaches you to be able to live off your wits and survive a mishap much easier. It gave me an instinct that any crisis can be dealt with and everything will be alright in the end.

Starve or Stannah

However, it turned me into a glutton and that is a hard instinct to overcome. That said, the thought of being on a Stannah Stairlift in ten years time, is a great incentive to sort it out. Now is the moment to start breaking the instincts that have been in me since I learnt to walk.

What about carrot cake? I like a bit of carrot cake, I do.

Does that count?