Food Diary of the Damned

[TW: food, diets]
I wrote this a few months back in an attempt to make light of dieting in general. I based it around what I actually ate that day. I was on a “dieting can’t be that difficult” kick.

Honestly, in my lived experience the only time I lose weight is because I’m paying no attention to my food intake whatsoever and eat purely to survive.

I wrote this entry before I was diagnosed with relapsing-remitting MS. Since then I haven’t focused much on food at all, except the pleasure of cooking.

Morning: I wake up with the certainty of my impending death and the gnawing of rats under my ribcage that to a practiced dieter suggest yesterday’s efforts were fruitful. Breakfast is plain sheep yoghurt with a depressingly small dab of honey in the middle, where it sticks to the spoon and makes no effort to homogenise despite determined stirring.

Mid-morning: Amazon shipment of seaweed arrives. I have bought it for snacking. Kill me.

Lunch: Dried seaweed, beef biltong and unshelled roasted pumpkin seeds, for the fibre. Kill me.

Mid-afternoon: I watch cartoons, drinking from a large bottle of cold green tea and glancing occasionally at the summer rain pounding down my windows. The expectation that I should work today is summons from Lucifer’s pit. From the mail slot come glossy siren calls of pizza delivery.

My healthy-meal-plan dinner requires tin foil, a wok, and a “nest of Pad Thai noodles”.

Late afternoon: I browse for fitness trackers but close the window when I realise that I would on average log the energy consumption and activity level of someone who has recently died.

My husband purchases an expensive scale to calculate our body fat percentages. I gloomily estimate that given outer appearances, I would make two kilos of some quite lovely foie gras, but say nothing to douse his sweet, innocent optimism.

Early evening: Raw carrots. Hummus. Diet cola. Futile, bitter tears.

Dinner: Takes nearly two and a half hours to complete. I have dirtied five bowls, three plates, two large spoons, two pots, and my entire kitchen work surface. The food is bland. I eat it for lack of anything else to do. I spend another hour cleaning up. Please kill me.