A new tourist attraction in LA, Cheat Day Land, named after the day of indulgence in a week of dieting, highlights the dysfunction of our modern rules of eating
It was late, and I was in town alone after seeing Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again and, as well as being elated and raw with emotion, I was suddenly starving. That panicky kind of hunger where it’s dangerous to go into Tesco because you know you’ll leave with a bag for life swollen with Nik Naks and coffee drinks and yesterday’s sushi, then still need some toast when you get in. And then I remembered burgers.
It’s a while since I ate a burger, but there they were, nonchalant and fast on Oxford Street, so I slid into a booth and took a bite. And oh God it was fantastic. Rich and salty, a nostalgic ooze, the vivid memory of being eight years old and delighted, and yet, as I swooned into this moment of pleasure, I was conscious of having to trample a familiar guilt. As well as the guilt about eating meat, there was a whole lasagne of additional guilts, layered one on top of the other and softened with a rich white sauce.
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