One of my housemates at university studied nutrition (read: food hippy). She was a full-on vegetable-promoting, seed-snacking, I'd-rather-have-frozen-yogurt-than-Cookie-Dough-ice-cream kinda gal (yeah, these people DO exist). She'd come back from her lectures cheerfully reciting fat-fuelled horror stories
while I sat with a Domino's on my lap and she'd much rather be analysing diets on Supersize vs. Superskinny than tuning into Eastenders. If she wasn't one of my best friends evah, then I'd probably definitely hate her and her healthy eating ways.
...But only because while she was getting up at 6:30am to go for a run before lectures in the snow and eating super foods for lunch, I'd just about make it out the door at a much more laid-back 11:30 with a lunch consisting of an entire pack of Party Rings and a bottle of Mountain Dew. We lived together for three wonderful years and although I did try the healthy thing a couple of times, I failed miserably; omega 3 rich fish does not make for a happy lunchtime - unless it's cooked in batter and accompanied by chips. The truth: living with a health freak (albeit a lovely one) made me feel bad about my inability to stay away from fast food, biscuits, chocolate and fizzy drinks. Rather than try harder, I simply decided this: healthy food is a bit shit. And that's a philosophy I continue to live by.
From the pages of Kate Moss face-palm worthy quotes, one springs to mind: "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." Typing "#EatRaw" into instagram is proof enough for me that many things taste better than skinny - and it hardly takes a genius to figure out anything you have to eat raw isn't going to taste that great. As sad as it may be, few things make me happier on a day-to-day basis than receiving a "McDonalds?" text from my boyfriend as he leaves work, or when my friends and I agree it's time to leave the club and head to the nearest chip shop (although said housemate would usually wait until we got home and snack on beans on toast or hummus and pita).
When girls go organic, there's usually only one place to turn: to your boy friends. Throughout university, those guys were always there to share a greasy pizza with, drive me to McDonalds, or accompany me on the long, harrowing walk to KFC. Maybe I'll become a proper lady and convert to salads and seeds eventually, sometime closer to my thirties...
Pub > Club
I'm Not Dead