I've seen food from both sides now

Okay, bear with me, this is sort of a pregnancy post. Sorry. But not really. This is actually about how this alien parasite has enabled me to see something from the other side. And it's fascinating. (To me.) So I'm going to tell you all about it. Read it, don't read it...

You may recall my little fattypuffs vs thinifers rant. A precis: I believe that chubsters have a fundamentally different experience of food to skinnies, and as a result skinnies are incapable of understanding why it is that we should have such trouble dieting, etc. Now I believe I have Incontrovertible Proof! that it is so. Because the alien parasite is making me, temporarily and sadly invisibly, a thinifer.

It's like this. Hormones, not-just-morning sickness, yada yada - I will try not to bore you with too many details, but you see, I've lost my appetite. That's only partly because of the nausea; some of the time, like most of today, I don't actually feel sick. But I still don't want to eat. It's not just that I'm not hungry; something has switched off. Food has lost the fun factor. And no, it doesn't taste different. (Apparently for lots of pregnant women, tastes do change, but so far, not for me.) Everything still tastes fine, I am capable of thinking in a detached sort of way that something tastes good and is quite enjoyable... but something is missing. Look, consider this: I don't want chocolate. Do you begin to comprehend the vastness of this change? Yesterday I found myself thinking I wanted a chocolate, while at the same time I was perfectly aware that I didn't really, I wouldn't enjoy it if I had one. What I wanted was the satisfaction which I normally get from chocolate, but which is now gone. (Try to imagine the horror.)

And that's what got me thinking. I suspect, for thinifers... every day is like this. Less extreme, because of the total lack of nausea and the presence of hunger, but with that same disconnect between food-as-fuel and food-as-fun. If this were my normal state, I too would hotly deny any accusations that I "just don't understand", because after all, I still have tastebuds! Mmmm, yummy pizza! I get that - but I can stop! Why would you want another piece when you're not hungry any more?

It really is completely different, and it really must be a body chemistry thing. Living like this, you would eat when you're hungry (and mildly enjoy it); you would even sometimes eat when you're not really hungry, on social occasions, or because chocolates really are delicious. But you wouldn't experience the desire to do that very often, because frankly, putting food in your mouth when you don't want it is pretty damn repellent.*

Like this, food is like taking a shower. You need it regularly, and yes, it's really enjoyable, and sometimes you might indulge in an extra-long shower just because it feels so nice; but nobody was ever in danger of overshowering.

The way I used to be - and hope I will be again - food is much more like sex. Not literally. I don't gasp and moan over chocolate brownies (well, not often). But it definitely pushes some or other pleasure buttons in the limbic centre that right now are out of reach. It satisfies something that has nothing to do with hunger, and frankly, although it makes me happy, in itself it has nothing to do with psychological comfort seeking either.

Fattypuffs get pleasure out of food. Thinifers merely get enjoyment. It's a physical difference, and you know? Now I really feel sorry for thinifers. Because they're missing so much.

PS With this in mind - I've just stumbled across the Shangri La Diet, and putting aside for now (PLEASE) all questions of whether or not it works, is healthy, etc, the question is: would I want it to work? It sounds an awful lot like it might just have the same effect as what I've described above - not so much reducing appetite, as taking away that pleasure response. Would I want to be naturally thin and healthy and still enjoy food... but not enjoy it the way I am used to? I honestly can't say.

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* Nature has a mean sense of humour. The best way to stave off all-day sickness is to snack constantly. The last thing you want to do.

The problem with yoga

Now, we all know that yoga is a wonderful thing that enables you to contort into unnatural postures and develop long elegant limbs and imagine you too can have men salivating over you even when you're 50, just like Madge. Plus, there aren't a lot of exercise classes that include a gentle snooze at the end. But. I feel the drawbacks of this rather peculiar discipline are too often overlooked. So in case a yoga class is on your list of New Year's resolutions — sorry, "goals" — I'm here to remind you that the problems with yoga are manifold.

1. It's not enough to be bendy, or twisty, or balancey. You frequently have to do all three at once, while staring at the ceiling and following instructions in that special alien yoga language that go something like: "Open your shoulderblades! Extend your arm in line with your left leg! Rotate your hips! And remember to keep your body on a vertical plane!" I'm not even sure what all that means, but I'm pretty darn certain I can't do it without checking my posture in a mirror, and even if I had a mirror, it wouldn't be on the ceiling.

2. About that "open your shoulderblades" thing. Yoga instructors seem to have a completely different idea of how the human body works. Surely anyone with a basic grounding in anatomy would understand that "bring your left kidney towards your right knee", if it means anything at all, is impossible?

3. Also, yoga was invented by men. Ascetic men. Men who apparently tried very hard not to think about things of the flesh, especially things of that interestingly curvy flesh that belongs to the other half of the species, and hence they haven't really considered the implications of certain positions for those of us with certain endowments. Now, whatever you may think, drowning in one's own bosom is really not a sexy way to go.

4. Over the centuries I suspect the ascetic aspect has gradually given way to a certain level of prurience. Hence the universal guideline from yoga instructors: "Wear something loose and comfortable." If anyone were foolish enough to actually follow this advice, they would soon find themselves halfnaked as the loose folds of their clothing gathered around their ears.

5. So we all wear something tight and comfortable instead, which definitely also enhances the prurience factor, and has the added disadvantage for female students that for half the class we are staring at the lithe, lycra-clad, perfect buttocks of the girl in front of us, and for the other half we find our eyeballs approximately two inches away from our own generous rolls of adiposity, significantly enhanced by the unforgiving position we're in. (At this point, I find it helps to remind myself that nobody else can see any further than their own belly either, so this isn't quite the forum of public shame that it feels like.)

6. And then — I blush to mention this, but it must be said — there is the danger of farting. With all that buttocks to the ceiling business, if there is any gas in your body, surely it will out. Probably when you're quite unprepared.

See you next Wednesday, then?

You know it's the first week of January when...

...you're up at 8am to go for a run — even though you only start work at 4pm.

...your diary is still a thing of beauty in your eyes.

...you have a mountain of Christmas chocolate in the house, and you fail to see how this might in any way compromise your good New Year intentions.

...your friend has just changed your date (made before Christmas) from "tea" to "lunch", because she genuinely believes there will be less calorie consumption that way.

...you know exactly what you want to do next New Year, and you don't for a minute think you might forget your idea by then.

...you see no problem with having signed up for a race in just five weeks, requiring you to train diligently in the coldest, most miserable time of the year.

Scrunch or fold?

Anna Little Red Boat, investigative journalist extraordinaire, started quite the conversation while I was away. Now, I'm entirely with her. Scrunching all the way. Folding your loo paper? That's just *weird*. (But does explain why English toilet paper is so thick.)

However.

Tissues, I fold. This is important. Blowing my nose with a single unfolded tissue leads to leakage and the immediate need for further tissues. Scrunching is inefficient. So I take my tissue, I fold it in half (usually), tuck neatly under the nose, blow, turn upside down, blow, fold again, wipe, fold, tidy up. I am told this is peculiar. I fail to see why. It's just sensible.

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