enemy of the weight
Food envy. Not something your average Viking would have recognised. The only thing standing between an empty stomach and a hankering for wild boar, saber tooth tiger or roaming wildebeest would have been a pair of tusks, teeth and a trauma-inspiring temper. Appeasing our appetite in this day and age is a much simpler process – thankfully.
For starters, we’ve swapped the cross-bow for a can-opener and no longer require the stamina to run like Forrest Gump. However, somewhere between the emergence of Adriano Zumbo today and the club bearing, cave-man dwelling barbarian of yesterday, we developed a ‘food conscience’. A less tangible obstacle to a full stomach than the threat posed by a wild animal, but an equally dangerous one at that. An obsession with calorie-counting; limiting nutritional intake to a bare minimum so that we can feel better about ourselves in our jeans.
However, our perception of what we look like, compared to the reality of what we look like, can often be two completely different things. Yet we fail to see this and refuse to be talked into believing so. Rational thought processes go out the window and with it, every semblance of sense.
Simple food choices can suddenly become mentally debilitating, potentially dress-size-altering decisions. We lose the ability to be able to make what should be nutritionally based decisions and instead, fumble over whether to opt for the ‘Garden Salad’, which is made to sound like something even Eve would have been tempted to nibble. In all reality, said leaves have probably been there since the birth of mankind and may or may not be a little sweaty at this point. Your mind is pushing the leaves, but your stomach is craving the steak, mash and veg alternative – undoubtedly, what Adam would have ordered and devoured without a second thought. Never has your immediate happiness depended so much on this split second decision. To make matters worse, psychological stagnation worsens as you become increasingly aware that both your hungry partner and exasperated waiter are losing patience every second. Both are looking at you with the anticipation and developing ferocity of a hundred hungry Vikings. Moral dilemma 101 has risen its ugly and malnourished head yet again: choose the un-healthy option in haste and risk having your top-button fly off with the force of a rocket-propelled grenade, or, to the annoyance of your immediate company, deliberate further over which is the heart-healthy, psychologically-friendly option.
From my own perspective, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to having experienced such thoughts. The perplexing thing is that unlike Edward Cullen, I can see my own reflection and have a basic understanding of general maths. Why then am I guilty of feeling insecure from time to time about what Bridget Jones termed her ‘wobbly bits’? I have no doubt they exist, but what is it in so many females’ minds that convinces us their existence is of Titanic proportions? I have no doubt that this phenomenon doesn’t discriminate between the sexes, but I do believe it is more prevalent in females than males, and one that is will accordingly continue to perplex our frustrated partners, relatives, and body-confident friends.
In hindsight, technological advancements such as the can-opener have probably hindered our ability to keep fit. Granted, eating as a pastime is more accessible and thus an easier, more mindless option than it once was. If this wasn’t the case then why I have found myself during the uni days, intent on procrastinating from study, drawn to the pantry in search of a teaspoon or two of Promite, I do not know. What I do know though, is that if I were a Viking, there would have been no pantry, more than likely no teaspoon, and definitely no Promite to satisfy my impulse. This then leads me to the deduction that sashimi, in hindsight, would have been a more promising and far healthier alternative…
(Image credit: 1.)
