Category
Specific meals, moments, and the small decisions about what gets left on the plate.
I haven't had a bacon, sausage and black pudding sandwich on farmhouse bread in so long it actually hurts to think about it. I'm not hungry. I just want it. So I'm going to have it, and I'm not going to make it mean anything.
I commute on Mondays, so I wasn't home all day. Didn't matter — I knew my wife had made stew before I'd even reached the front door. Turns out that's the one day of the week I'm glad to have missed it.
Two bars of 85% cocoa are sitting in the fridge, and I've started to wonder whether I'm just looking for permission. So I checked what the actual evidence says, and it's less flattering to my argument than I'd hoped.
I thought I'd learned my lesson about buying food in bulk after the 5 kg bag of sugar. Turns out I'd learned the wrong one.
Shepherd's pie from the freezer, plenty of vegetables, and then I stopped. The old ritual was a pie-and-gravy sandwich on buttered bread, then more bread to mop up the gravy. Tonight I didn't follow it, and my brain has filed a complaint.
Lasagne, salad, garlic bread and two leftover onion bhajis from a Friday night takeaway. Mounjaro had made me forget to eat lunch, so the bhajis had one remaining window, and it was Saturday dinner.
Two slices of buttered toast versus a bowl of cornflakes and half a pint of milk. I assumed the cereal was the lighter choice. Then I actually weighed the bowl.
A posh burger van, a venison burger I didn't finish, and the difference between stopping because I'm full and stopping because I just don't like it enough.
Not finishing the beans - a trivial-sounding moment that was actually the old instinct losing an argument.
Two previous Rotties, both called Roxy - neither would touch raw food, but one treated even cooked food like a suspect and the other would eat anything - and what that taught me about eating because it's there.
Stopping halfway through a halloumi wrap and fries, and losing interest in finishing it just because I paid for it.
A restaurant meal where being full finally won the argument against finishing the plate.
A ridiculous but genuine example of wanting food and choosing not to eat it anyway.