This is quite fitting because I’m actually hungry (which for this time in the morning is highly unusual). It’s a topic that comes up quite a lot at home, at work and out and about because I have a very strange relationship with food.
I’ve always been a skinny little thing, never peaking the eleven stone mark which for someone over six foot is classified as being underweight I believe. From what I can remember the problems started at University where as a result of my lifestyle and lack of funds I completely lost any love I may have previously had for food. To this day I feel sick and guilty if I over indulge which some would probably classify as an eating disorder. At the end of the day it is my opinion that as a rule we eat far too much, and we also waste too much but that’s another post for another time. When I was at Uni I managed to get to the point where I was eating one or two meals a day and I was entirely comfortable with that. I wasn’t punishing myself, I wasn’t in pain as a result of it, my stomach had shrunk and I just didn’t have the capacity for it at all.
Food is just not classified as a priority to me; a very wise women once said that I ‘eat to live, whereas the rest of the family live to eat’ and that has stuck with me, and is something I turn to as a defence. If something is very well prepared then I can still appreciate it (my girlfriend’s cooking for example is spot on) but for the most part I just see food as being coal for the burner in my belly, I just need enough to keep me going and even that often gets forgotten when I get lost in a task. If I’m writing or recording or hung up on something it isn’t exactly the case that I forgo food as much as it doesn’t even come into my thoughts until I’m finished or the offer is made to me. I guess that’s why it would be dangerous for me to live alone again, there are only so many notches to feed into my belt.
Evaluate from that whatever you want.