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5:2, AKA the Wonder Diet. Even Works on Dogs....

5:2, AKA the Wonder Diet. Even Works on Dogs....


Everyone I know is on the 5:2 diet including the dog (but that’s more because I can rarely be arsed to go to the supermarket and there’s only so much cat food a  Lurcher can stomach).

This diet seems to have been designed specifically with bingeaholic hair shirt wearers like myself in mind, a rare breed I find. I’ve always put my excessive/repressive nature down to a hardcore Catholic upbringing - pleasure, guilt, pleasure, guilt, pleasure, guilt. But turns out, we’re a whole nation of hedonistic, self denial freaks.

Say yes to all day rose on Sunday, enjoy the corrective pain of nil by mouth on Monday. (I’m not sure it’s really meant to work like this but no one said it couldn’t).

Hunger, remember that? I like feeling hungry, it makes me feel alive and also wonder if I’ve spent the last 20 odd years rolling from snack to snack in some kind of dumbed down/blacked out haze.

For the uninitiated, ie anyone who prefers life under a rock, the 5:2 diet centres around the health benefits of eating normally for 5 days a week and then drastically restricting your calorie intake the other 2 days.  Everyone seems to have signed up for it from Beyonce to Hugh Fearnley Whittinghshall (and how often can you put those two in the same bracket?).

I think 5:2 is here to stay, the focal point of dinner party/water cooler conversation, a health revolution that was long overdue.

Recently I have taken to meeting an old friend  at various lunch spots around the West Country: At the Chapel one month, a beach café in West Bay the next. It doesn’t matter much where we go, we’ve booked in for an hour of unadulterated laughter before returning to the daily drudge, we just need to be clear about whether or not it’s a fast day. Cue some slightly undignified hoovering of seafood broth, perhaps a shared woodfired pizza alongside the chargrilled scallops.

But now I think of it, how much better to meet on a fast day, a little grilled seabass, some sparkling water, the life affirming buzz of actually being hungry when you turn up to eat. Surely it can’t be long before our favourite restaurants start to offer calorie counted menus? I may have to suggest it.

Yes I am truly obsessed. Today I’m drinking rose, but tomorrow I’m born again.

 

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