We are all children sometimes, desperate to ignore the fact that what we want is not always what we need. Our adult selves retain a fascination with excess, falling off the wagons of healthy eating and safe units of alcohol and 10,000 steps a day with – for some – too great a frequency for comfort.
Weight-loss programmes falter not because we can’t educate our palates to enjoy grilled salmon and steamed green beans, but because sometimes – out of tiredness, or boredom, or excitement – we just really want a biscuit. I write as a woman who last week went to the very back of the kitchen cupboard in search of a small box of chocolate truffles I remembered having been given for Christmas. Reader, they turned out to be miniature bath bombs. It was a heartbreaking moment.
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