It's official - I'm obsessed with food!

So, today I wrote a book review - a book review of Lorraine Kelly's autobiography Between Me And You. Man, I'm cool. Anyway, it was only after I'd submitted the review and re-read it that I realised it was brimming over with references to food/eating/hunger. Here are a few examples:

"...we were hungry for revelations..."
"...our appetite for scandal was not going to be satisfied..."
"...the whole thing is served up..."
"...unpleasant taste in your mouth..."

This has taught me two things:

1. I should stop writing in such dreadful cliches.
2. Food is clearly on my mind, even if it isn't in my stomach.

Point 1 isn't really relevant here - in fact, it's about as much use as a chocola... never mind. Point 2, on the other hand, is interesting. Food is obviously on my mind constantly, without me even realising it. Which is funny, as abstaining from normal food has, apart from a few fragile moments (more on those in a moment), been pretty easy. But that's because I'm obsessed with this diet. I have a pretty obsessive (addictive?) personality at the best of times, but I suppose it's good that it's directed towards a positive goal at the moment. At least, I think it's a positive goal. But as my ever-wise and straight-talking friend Olivia pointed out today, in some ways the Lighter Life plan is basically medically-approved anorexia. But I don't suppose I should worry about that now - I think I'll know when to stop. And I have a long way to go yet. Although, and it's time for a boast, I have lost a stone now. Well, nearly a stone - 13 pounds, to be precise, in just over two weeks. Two weeks! People are noticing it now, my waist is two inches smaller and my clothes are much looser. It's exciting, and it makes me feel so good (particularly when people say such nice encouraging things) that it makes up for the boringness of dieting.

But, onto those fragile moments - and the first is actually booze, not food, related. As I mentioned in my last post, this weekend was Reading Festival, always one of the highlights of my year - but normally because I'm drinking non-stop, eating crap, donning a blonde wig and performing to thousands of people as Dolly Parton, meeting unsavoury characters and having an amazing time with my friends. This year, I did have an amazing time with my friends, but it was tee-total, food-free fun. And I didn't know that could be any fun at all.

However, and I've been in two minds about whether to own up to this, I did have my first lapse, in the form of one - yes, only one - plastic cup of vodka and soda water. Tut tut. I umm-ed and ah-ed over it for ages, and then succumbed to the lure of the bar at around 8pm on the Saturday night. The ordering of the drink was time-consuming, the taste of the drink was vile, and the circumstances of the drink's consumption were stressful - in fact, most of it ended up down my top as I got pushed around during Bloc Party's brilliant set. And, of course, I didn't feel great about it. Although I knew that one drink would have little, if any, effect on my weight loss, it was the principle of the thing - I'm supposed to be abstaining completely. But, and this is a big but (but not as big as my butt), I do feel I learned from it. I actually feel proud of myself for getting through - and enjoying - a festival (how many of you could do it without real food or alcohol? OR drugs, before you try to be clever...) which will surely be the biggest challenge I'll face on this journey (oh Christ, I've started talking about my "journey" - it's just like The X Factor). And I know now that drinking while I'm dieting is pointless, because there was no enjoyment factor - I just felt tired and a bit disappointed in myself. And I have also learned that feeling left out is perhaps a trigger for me to drink - and maybe eat too? But, slight blip aside, I had a fantastic weekend and saw a lot more bands than I would have if I'd been heading back to my tent every couple of hours to have a few more swigs on the winebox. I saw Lightspeed Champion, Bloc Party, Los Campesinos, Vampire Weekend, The Wombats, Dan Le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip, Black Kids, MGMT, Frank Turner, Jack Penate, The Killers, Mystery Jets... plus bits of loads of others. And I remember it all - amazing!

The second challenge came yesterday, when I went to the aforementioned Olivia's house for a little barbecue. For years, I've been moaning about not having many good friends in South London, and now Olivia and James have moved to Peckham, so it's all very exciting. But it would be more exciting if I could eat. I actually felt fine when plate after plate of chicken wings, burgers, crisps and cheese were being passed around - I mostly just enjoyed the smell while demurely sipping my mushroom soup - and, in fact, it wasn't until we moved on to the pub that I felt a bit iffy. Everyone was ordering desserts, and Olivia plumped for ("plumped for"! See?! Obsessed!) a chocolate brownie thing with gooey sauce and ice cream. I wasn't tempted to eat it, but not being able to even entertain the idea of doing such a thing did make me feel a bit sad. It's hard sitting at a table of friends who are all naturally slim despite happily stuffing their faces with crap all afternoon - how do they do it?

Anyway, this blog post is a bit on the epic side (and no guinea pigs again. I am sorry...) so it's time to shut up and go to bed.