You
Introduction
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Despite our shared upbringing, my siblings and I are very different people. You only have to put us in the same house, over a short period of time, to discover that tastes, beliefs, habits and attitudes vary wildly between us. But this is not unusual. After all, family arguments would never arise if everyone in the same house responded to the world in the same way.
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When it comes the relational differences in the family Diot, they are never starker than when it comes to the way in which we each view, prepare and eat food. My older brother, likes guidance, referring to any number of cookbooks for the range of recipes he will follow throughout the week. Each meal will be planned from an extensive collection of titles and the required ingredients sourced through a widespread search of local, and occasionally distant, food retailers and specialist providers. If he is unable to find a required ingredient, that dish will be struck from the week’s menu and a new one added in its place, necessary procurement pending. There will be no substituting or compromising the recipe, with each meal prepared as if he were conducting the most delicate of experiments. I have always felt that a lack of kitchen scales that measure to the microgram, has frustrated his attempts to get things exactly as they are intended. Once prepared, the food is cooked for the specified amount of time, at the correct temperature. Following this, it may, or may not, be rested, depending on instructions, before it is consumed at a table, within the most suitable of receptacles, using a set of relevant cutleries. All of which had been carefully prepared beforehand.
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My younger sister, in contrast, would only open a recipe book to look at the photos. She would rather wander the local markets buying whatever she stumbles across that day, either because it looked nice, or because she happens to have got into conversation with the person selling it. She gives no thought to how it will be eaten, focusing more on ‘the energy’ she is picking up from the vendor or shopkeeper. This means that every breakfast, lunch or dinnertime, is an exercise in improvisation as she wanders into her kitchen, selects what she fancies there and then and tries to make a meal out of it. Although every creation is unique, they are all consumed seated on the floor, from the same bowl, using no more than a spoon. In comparison to those two, I, the difficult middle child, generally order home delivery and eat it in front of the TV, normally out of the container it came in, using a plastic fork, if one has been provided.
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I am sure that many of you reading this, will reflect on their own family members and identify with such food and diet disparities. It would seem obvious that there is something that resides within us, that distinguishes us from each other, even those of similar nature and nurture. With these internal characteristics affecting how we view, consider and consume food. If you are reading this book, it is possible that you feel that your personal factors have been leading you down a path of unhelpful consumption. But fear not, just because you can’t see it, does not mean it cannot be overcome. In this chapter I discuss attributes that reside in all of us, I describe how they may be affecting you and explain that although these factors make up the people we are, they weren’t necessarily of our creation. Hopefully, by helping you to understand how they came about, you may learn what you can do to control them.
Food preferences
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There is no film, television programme or song that can override the sensation of putting something in your mouth that should not be there. Leading me to believe that taste is the most intense of senses. I will concede that a hand placed on a burning hob will be no less painful when chewing on a chunk of toffee, but I will counter by pointing out that an accidentally chomped chilli generates a similar burn without scorching the flesh. Such taste sensitivity may explain why we spend our days seeking the flavours our palates demand and avoiding those it rejects.
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Food inclinations, whilst often shared, are not uniform between us all. A fact made obvious once we cross the borders and seas that separate us all. Many parents carry unfortunate tales of meals taken in other countries, with their treasured offspring screaming at full volume due to a lack of acceptable options on the restaurant menu. Leaving them to look jealously around the neighbouring tables, at the local children chomping happily on whatever regional delicacy they have been given. Although at the time it may seem that the native offspring are inherently more adventurous with their food choices, it is more likely that they are tucking into food to which they have become accustomed. That being the same food the holidaying offspring have been screaming about for the last half an hour.
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I find it hard to believe that babies in one country celebrate the arrival of locusts and snails as hard as others applaud mashed banana and ice cream. Rather that we are taught what to enjoy beyond the dietary restrictions we are born with. Our preferences would stay rigid and refined, rejecting the toxic bitter tastes for safe, sweet delights, if it were not for those around us demonstrating what is benign and harmless. We develop a taste dependent on those teaching us. Those of us with different teachers, often learning very different lessons
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I shall provide an example. Give any travelling Australian a spoonful of Vegemite and a longing of the homeland will infest every migratory cell. Alternatively, provide them a hint of Marmite and they will recoil against the vile product causing havoc with their taste buds. Do the same for any true Brit and the opposite is true. Give both yeast extract products to someone from neither country and they will find no difference between them, but will often decline a second taste, suggesting that they see no need to differentiate between two foods, neither of which they will ever choose to eat again. In place of either ‘-mite’ consider miso soup, snails, rotting shark, tripe or haggis and we can see that our tastes differ as broadly as our cultures and languages. Both of which we adopt and absorb from those around us. And the way that we learn these food lessons, can often determine how we view food for the rest of our lives.
So it was for me, that my parents led me to my current dietary preferences. And they did so through a similar approach to child raising that dog trainers are known to follow in teaching their charges to roll over, play dead, fetch, or sit. Any new trick I performed, or skill I developed, from potty training to tying shoelaces, was rewarded with some desirable sweet tasting treat. Chocolate, candy and cake all becoming rewards for doing something well. Similarly, such delights could be used as coercion, to stop me doing wrong. Any noisy evening or childish tantrum swiftly ceased with a bag of potato chips, or baked cookie.
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Like so many parents of their generation, mine would dangle the prized dessert in front of me - mostly figuratively but on occasion physically - whilst they implored me to finish my main. The crumble and custard, raspberry trifle, or chocolate mousse all encouraging me to eat my greens or finish my protein portion. Although you cannot fault their intention, their methods may have been counterproductive. Whilst the rewards became celebrated and cherished, the goals became tainted by their label. If I had to be coerced into eating broccoli, it clearly wasn’t something I should be expected me to put in my mouth by choice. Had these food roles been reversed and every new job secured, or exam passed, been celebrated with a plate of Brussel sprouts and birthday parties concluded with a candle laden veg basket, perhaps I would now be wandering past the candy aisles, looking only to fill my trolley with greens.
But before you curse your parents for lumbering you with an unhelpful predilection for honeyed delights, consider that now you know how you came to enjoy the sugared treats over the heavily vitamined vegetable, you may be able to do something about it. It appears that we are as much a shaper of our tastes and preferences as we are slaves to them, so we might not be as stuck with them as it seems. All we need is a little deprogramming.
Dr Idiot thinks outside the box
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If you want to retune your taste buds, so that you crave and enjoy healthy food, you might have to undo some associations that have been established over the years. Rather than relate those less healthy treats with good times and fun occasions, you will need to learn to connect them with less pleasant moments. Eat ice cream every time you get bad news, have chocolate at every funeral, or candy when you hurt yourself. In time you will begin to associate these foods with feeling down or in pain. Whenever you receive good news, eat some steamed vegetables. Perhaps reward yourself with greens for every piece of cake you try. If you finish all your dessert, have a piece of broccoli. In no time, you will have reprogrammed your taste buds and will be rejecting the ice cream and chocolate sundae for a tantalising bowl of steamed spinach. Alternatively, you may start purposely stubbing your toe for an excuse to open the biscuit jar. Who knows?
Eating patterns
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Of all the travelling tales I have heard my cousin tell, the one they recount with the least enthusiasm, relates to the all-inclusive holiday they once ‘made the mistake’ of booking. This, they report, was one of those trips where you stay in a big hotel full of people from your own country, in which all food and drinks are provided at no extra cost. They say they decided to book such as a holiday, as they saw it as a chance to relax on a minimal budget. Hoping to unwind in the sun, leaving the stresses and strains of work and life behind them in the UK, if only for a week. This did not prove to be the case. Firstly, it seemed as most of the UK had come with them and were staying in the same hotel. Making it very busy. Secondly, the resort proved very difficult to escape from. Prisons, they reported, have an easier path from cell to exit gate, than found at this establishment.
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My cousin, who likes to see some of the country in which they are holidaying, said that this proved quite a challenge, as the hotel made leaving their premises unusually difficult. The only way out seemed to be to book on to one of their approved trips, provided at an extra and not unsubstantial cost. This meant the hotel remained busy and full of holidaymakers at all times, leading to a rather stressful atmosphere. The mass of hotel guests participating in a daily and unrelenting competition for the beds by the pool, the free of charge activities, and the all-inclusive drinks being served to a constant line of guests. Some of whom felt in grave danger of sobering up at some point over their two-week break. Most stressful, they tell me, was food time, with each and every meal dished out from endless buffets to long winding queues of holidaymakers. If you were ill prepared enough to find yourself at the end of these queues, you were generally only left with the dregs of whatever had been cooked and kept warm over the strictly adhered to food service times. These times proving to be pretty inflexible, with a firm two hours provided for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
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They tell me that the whole hotel timed their arrival so that they could be there for the opening of the doors. Meaning that anyone reaching the dining hall soon after start of service, would already find themselves at the end of a very long queue. This made for a reasonably stressful stay, but also seemed to have a lasting effect once the holiday was over. For a number of weeks after returning home, my cousin says that they would begin to feel both hungry and a little panicked, around half an hour before the hotel service time.
I could relate to this in many ways. Not because of my holiday experiences, but more as I am at the mercy of my eating patterns. Ones that have been ingrained in me from childhood. I eat at the same times each day and prefer not to be creative over the position of the clock hands when I take my meals. I breakfast soon after waking, I lunch at midday and take dinner from six. This may seem a rather rigid timetable, but I would argue that in many regards it is not an unusual one. It seems as if we are all brought up on our three staple meals. With every home, school, or workplace, as well as most individuals, planning their activities and days around them.
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To many, this can be a challenge in control, as our bodies often prove to be asking for food earlier than our scheduling allows. The grumbling mid-morning, or mid-afternoon, stomach often appeased with snacking until we can take our meal, at the designated time. I can only think that such structured consumption is a relatively recent development. I am sure that cave people did not awaken to a regular alarm, switching on fires in the depth of winter to remind each other that the morning’s meal was the most important of the day. Hunger and accessibility ultimately determining eating time. Even relatively recently, not all the standard three were welcome. Breakfast was considered a gluttonous and greedy affair, viewed as the reserve of the poor and the young only whilst lunch was king. Citizens enjoying an afternoon meal big enough to keep the hunger pangs at bay, such that dinner need not be taken.
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Modern employment has largely put an end to these long lazy lunches. With very few industries -outside of France - able to support their workers in a three-hour dining break, followed by an afternoon of listlessness and desk naps. Lunch for many, tends to be small and rushed. To allow us to complete our mandatory seven and a half work hours and get home with enough time for dinner. Our days are arranged around food, in the same way that food has become arranged around our days. They have become harmonised, with most of the world adopting the same arrangement.
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There are certain mavericks out there who would like to change these patterns, suggesting we should eat a number of small meals spread throughout the 24 hours. Such a radical proposal is yet to take hold and I struggle to see the population at large adopting it. I for one, would not want to sit down with friends at midday for small plate number four, or with family in the evening for the eighth tiny snack. Food is not just for subsistence, it is social and these food patterns have built to allow us to work together, eat together and rest together. There seems little reason to change things, especially now that we’ve finally agreed on them.
Reader’s writes
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Dear Dr Idiot,
I take a packed lunch to work every day. Unfortunately, knowing that my food is sitting in the bottom drawer of my desk torments me. I start to think about eating it a long time before lunch break and I struggle to resist for long. Subsequently I often finish the whole thing by midmorning. Do you have any advice on how I can resist eating my lunch until a reasonable hour?
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Yours guiltily
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Tempted Terri
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Dr Idiot replies:
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Dear Tempted Terri,
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You are not alone. We all struggle with the tell-tale packed lunch, calling out to be eaten from our bags or drawers. Officially, any food eaten before midday is counted as brunch, as lunch can only be taken from that time onwards. So perhaps take a packed brunch to work with you as well. Alternatively move to the continent, their clocks are an hour ahead and they spend all day eating as it is.
Yours sincerely
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Dr Idiot
Behaviours
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I will confess that I have not always been as health conscious as I am currently portraying in print. Evidence of this unwholesome past is highlighted by the revelation that I once tried smoking. Considered by many to be the evillest of voluntary behaviours. I say tried only, as I never developed into a regular user. Tobacco and I never becoming comfortable allies. Despite no lack of effort on my part, all attempts to puff on a cigarette, no matter how cautiously, came to the same painful conclusion that I reached after my first experiment with the evil weed.
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One day, during a long lunch break, huddled around the old toilets in a hidden corner of the school, I lifted a brand unspecific cigarette to my mouth and nervously inhaled. I wouldn’t say that it began as an enjoyable experience, the bitter smoke offending my tongue and gums as soon as it entered, but things became even worse as the smoke made its way into my lungs. Once there, it instigated a fit of coughing that continued unabated for around five minutes. As I struggled to take another, smoke free, breath. Such a reaction seemed to encourage an uncomfortable dizziness and nausea, that forced me to take recovery on the dirty floor of a room that had become recently abandoned. My smoking partners, doing what all teenagers do when things get dicey, had promptly run off. None of them wishing to be present when my corpse was discovered.
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I was momentarily relieved about this, as my lungs had ignored their primary role and become an exit only organ. My main concern, as I sprayed a kaleidoscope of coloured phlegm around the floor, was that I would not get off with anybody during the remainder of my school years if anyone had stayed around to witness it. After another 10 minutes, under the watchful gaze and mirth of those who had returned, I was able to sit up and request another drag, pretending I had enjoyed the first one. Unsurprisingly this encouraged more of the same.
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Throughout these difficult teenage years, I tried the evils of tobacco on a number of occasions, experiencing a similar reaction with each attempt. To such an extent that even my smoking peers refused to let me try ‘one more time’. Not due to concern for my wellbeing, but mostly as it seemed that I was spoiling their impassive attempts to look cool. So it was that for my remaining time at school, I looked upon the smokers with a certain respect, as they flouted the rules so bravely. They seemed, to us incompetent smokers, as such impressive rebels. Standing in circles, hidden from view, sharing supposedly one of the worst (legal) things you, as an individual, can do for your health.
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My jealousy did not rest solely on their perceived revolution, there were also rumours that the dubious pleasure of nicotine helped these miscreants stay thin. A motivating factor in adopting the behaviour in the first place. Although I believed such gossip at the time, I have seen many of my smoking peers since they have left school and the rumoured effect either does not last, or never held true in the first place. It would also appear that the sense of cool is something that passes. When I do happen across them, they can all still be found puffing on the irresistible tobacco sticks but now with more compulsion than they demonstrated during their informative years. The nonchalance of the adolescent rebel replaced by the craving of the adult addict. To a person, they are quite open about how they would like to break the habit if they could.
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Now, this is not a quit smoking book - although if there is a market for one, I may consider a second series - so I share this story to highlight that they, like me, seem to spend an inordinate amount of time dieting. However, it would appear to be slightly contradictory to swill a glass of cheap brandy in one hand, puff on a strong cigarette in the other and insist on organic low-fat food for lunch. It seems incongruous to carefully balance your diet without consideration of how your other behaviours are impacting on your general health. It doesn’t mean that you can’t do it of course, just that such activities are incompatible. Why allow your actions to clash in a battle for your wellbeing? So much better to let them work together, rather than against each other.
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Accepting that we should align behaviours, for the good our health is one step, knowing how to do it is another matter entirely. We may often understand what behaviours are good, or bad, for us, but we are not always sure how they may work together. We have generally acknowledged that the only way that smoking can ensure weight loss, is through the development of a range of chronic diseases that reduce the body to few working parts. But the impact of other behaviours is not always so clear. Many will point to the medicinal qualities of a regular, if controlled, alcoholic drink. I would question this. I am not sure what kind of people these ‘many’ hang out with, as controlled drinking proves a rarity amongst my friends. We only need to look at the fast-food establishments supporting lines of revellers in any city centre, on any weekend evening, to realise that a few drinks do not turn us into a population of vegetable eaters, or exercise enthusiasts. If drinking encouraged you to seek out vitamins and fibre, nightclubs and bars would be surrounded by greengrocers rather than kebab vans. And towns would be full of young adults drinking well beyond safe levels and then crowding into the nearest fruit shop.
The evidence is stark and it is not simply the immediate influence of alcohol that we must consider. The aftermath from an evening out drives many a partier to the local café for a healthy - in size if not nutrient content – cooked breakfast, the following morning. Commonly washed down with gallons of caffeinated sugary drinks. The body, so depleted by alcohol, craves calories, often for a few days after.
Admittedly the extremes of alcohol intake can lead to temporary weight loss, as the Sunday morning street cleaners or vomit dodgers can attest to. But this is more damaging than digesting the food in the first place and is normally more than made up for later in the week. We must, therefore, not view diet as isolated from our other behaviours. It is not independent from the other things we allow ourselves to do. A rounded approach is required if we are to consider ways to curb, curtail or control what we consume. So by all means think about the food you are eating, but think about the other things you are doing at the same time, as they are liable to have an effect.
Dr Idiot's ancestor attester
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My gran once advised me that ‘a little bit of what you fancy does you good’. Although I could see what she was getting at, her message was slightly diluted when her morning cigarette ignited her tot of breakfast brandy. I would advise you to limit the risk of burns, but you can see what she was getting at. You are allowed to enjoy life. You can do things that make you happy. The key is curbing those behaviours which bring nothing positive to the party. Don’t invite the guests that you know will turn up empty handed and then just fill their pockets and leave. I would, of course, encourage you to think about what you eat and how it makes you feel, but if you’re going to do this, it would be best to ensure your other behaviours don’t detract from your ultimate goal of feeling good. Some actions may encourage weight loss, but do they do so by helping or hindering? You may never have seen an overweight heroin addict, but you are unlikely to have seen one finish a marathon either. Starting a sugar free diet is not going to make you feel much better about life, if you’re stuck with the other habits that are doing you harm. So, by all means review and reflect on your diet, just don’t ignore the others things you are doing alongside it.
Habits
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My Mum tells me that before he had kids, my father was an easy-going man. He was, by her accounts, laid back and even-tempered. Apparently, it was shortly after I learned to walk and talk that he became the irritable dad we all came to know and love. Subsequently, we, his children, found several ways that we could inadvertently work together to encourage his distemper. The one that seemed to work above all else in promoting a fiery response, that I am sure many parents can relate to, occurred during any moderate to long journey. We, as a unit, would wait until he had loaded the car, placed all of us in our seats and headed off in our destination’s direction, before demanding the toilet.
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On occasions, having allowed just one of our three into cajoling my father to stop for a comfort break, we would refuse any offer to go ourselves. Only to request our own stop some minutes after leaving the service station, or alternative toilet providing facilities. I will acknowledge that this was not peculiar to our household. At the time, one only needed to gaze at the bottomless children, urinating merrily into the verges of any part of the extensive UK road network, to understand that this was a common problem.
Father Diot, recognising this, developed a sensible system to prevention, through enforced toilet visits, preceding every journey we made or every stop on it. With bags packed and car loaded, he would make the call ‘final wees’ and insist that none of us could board the vehicle until we had expelled every drop of fluid from our bladders. Any exit from a service station or restaurant was treated in exactly the same way.
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Some of you reading this will see this as a sensible approach. And perhaps it was, in the short-term. But the long-term impact of the final wees protocol must also be recognised. As such behaviour has now become ingrained within us all. Even though we are now adults, it seems impossible for my siblings or I to leave the house, or get into a car, without first visiting the toilet. Irrespective of how much we have drunk, or the time since our last visit, the sounds of an engine revving, or the sight of someone lifting a suitcase into a boot, will turn all of our thoughts to urinating.
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This has led to a slightly irritating routine. Especially if we are all together as a family, as it can encourage a lengthy queue for the facilities. To those currently screaming at the page, questioning why we don’t just stop doing it. I will remind you of the largely accepted adage that old habits are hard to break. Ask any long-term smoker, nail biter or constant phone checker why they can’t stop themselves and you may receive a curt reply. Once the foundations for a habit have been established, they can be hard things to dismantle. Partly because they are so ingrained as to almost seem central to who we are, but also as we often barely notice them, so aligned have we become with them.
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This is never truer than when it comes to our food. You may find that many of your eating and cooking behaviours are fixed. They are established, accepted and often unintentional. So unintentional that it may take someone else to point out that they are there. Normally at the result of our irritation.
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Such food habits can include how we eat, what we eat, with whom and when. But they can also stretch to include how we buy, keep and dispose of our food. For example, I am sure there are some people out there who eat their gammon without cauliflower cheese. Perhaps even whole families who don’t put ketchup on their cottage pie. Similarly, some houses may not open a pack of biscuits every time they make a cup of tea or reach for a bag of popcorn every time a film starts. There may be people out there who leave enough time for breakfast, such that it can be enjoyed at leisure. Rather than hurriedly shovelling it into their mouths, whilst exiting the house partly dressed, after having a final wee. There may also be people who don’t visit their local supermarket late on a Sunday afternoon and fill their trollies with everything that has a marked down, or price cut, label. But none of them will be found in the immediate ancestry of the Diots.
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Our particular combination of food practices and customs may be unique to us, but the fact that we have them is not. After all, we all have habits. And If you think you don’t, it is more likely that you just haven’t noticed them. Fear not though. Having such patterns and routines is not necessarily a bad thing. Habits are central to how we live our lives. We all have them and in many instances, they help us manoeuvre the trials and tribulations of our day to day existence.
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Some habits, however, are not so helpful. As they support and establish actions and behaviours that may not be in our best interest. Although it would be good to discard those that are a hindrance and keep only those that prove an aid. This may be an overly simplistic aim. After all, the distinction of good and evil habits, may not reflect our ability to discard them. The reality is that the longer a habit has been in place, the harder it can be to dislodge. For those who love an analogy, the deeper their roots, the more challenging it is to dig them up. For long held and well-established habits, it is far easier to change them gradually and gently, than it is to remove them completely. So maybe it is time that you took to pruning and shaping those habits which are creeping onto the more cultivated parts of your life. The sooner you start doing this, the lesser the chance you’ll find yourself stranded on the hard shoulder, peeing into the grass.
Dr Idiot’s Idiets ideas
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The habit breaking alphabet diet
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Habits persist without thought. In fact, habits persist because there is no thought attached to them. Not engaging your brain in the behaviour is part of what makes it a habit. So, if you can ensure that you have to think every time you need food, you should be able to overcome any habitual eating. Try the alphabet diet in which you use ingredients that are chosen alphabetically, following on from the last thing you ate. I don’t want to give you recipes, but you might start with avocado, beans and cheese, then for your next meal you could have duck, eggs and figs. I admit neither of these sound particularly appealing, but finding meals that are more to your taste will become a challenge and require even greater thought. Imagine going to the supermarket and having to fill your trolley with a week’s shop ending in x, y and z. There will be no aimless wandering around the aisles choosing whatever sweet treat takes your fancy. Once you have gone through the alphabet once, you could try every second letter: anchovies, cabbage and edamame for one meal followed by grapes and ice cream for dessert. If you wanted a snack later, you could have a kiwi fruit. Having chosen food on every second letter, do it using every third and so on. Before you know it every meal, snack or treat will be a mental challenge and your eating a more considered activity.
Beliefs
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There was a rather dubious claim making the rounds during my early years of secondary school, regarding the dietary habits of the man held up to be the epitome of evil. I believe the rumour was started by a particularly young and hip history teacher, who had a way of making the subject seemed mildly inoffensive to the typical teenager. Not being a history scholar myself, the rumour did little for me. Although I was impressed by the reaction it encouraged from those hearing it for the first time and, more attractively, the respect bestowed on the deliverer of such obscure knowledge. Alas, with the rumour spreading around the school faster than I could follow it, I was never in a position to be the one to break the news and hence was never celebrated by my peers as the purveyor of such information. It soon became apparent that my only chance of glory in passing on this borrowed material was to unleash it on those even less informed than I was: my family.
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Having settled on an audience, I wanted to gain maximum exposure from my impressive knowledge and so waited for a time at which as many of the Diot family would be present as possible, before delivering it. A family meal provided the perfect opportunity. We were sat around the dinner table at my grandparents’ house. An excessive Sunday roast spread before us. Waiting whilst my grandfather carved a hefty beef joint, from his position at the head of the table. Having expertly sliced the meat into perfectly sized portions, he held up one rare slab of meat, hooked on to the carving knife, in front of him. ‘Anyone for beef’ he asked, the bloody red offering dripping juices on to the platter, ‘or have we all turned vegetarian?’.
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I may not have been a particularly observant child, but I had known that this moment was coming. In the same way that some families must say grace before eating, the vegetarian question, or attempted joke, preceded every Sunday roast at my grandparents’ house. I had been waiting for it. I paused for effect and as I thrust my plate in my grandfather’s direction asked of the table ‘Did you know that Hitler was a vegetarian!?’. This did little more than provoke a selection of baffled looking expressions on the faces of my family. Until my gran, still sharp of hearing and mind, responded. ‘Honestly,’ she said ‘the more you hear about that man!’.
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This may seem a rather strange reaction to many of you. The crimes of the man in question seem so great, that the addition of being a fussy eater would make no further dent to his reputation. But anyone who makes it through the stresses and strains of a war, living on a diet of whale and horsemeat, welcomes vegetarians with about as much enthusiasm as a bout of consumption. The idea that you wouldn’t eat meat was an anathema to both grandparents. As was the suggestion that this might be a healthy way to go through life. To them, livestock should feel honoured to be eaten for our cause. After all, such fare would not have been born otherwise. They were also strong of the opinion that a fatty steak was the height of healthiness and bacon rind was just the thing to keep infection from the door.
Some beliefs, such as these, are shared by certain population subgroups. Those of similar ethnicity, age, or region, often aligning on certain views. Some are more individual. My grandfather would not go near a microwave, fearing it would do untold damage to his internal organs. My grandmother did not trust wine, convinced it contained foot sweat and toenails. Both considered beer a healthier option than water.
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The rest of the family may have challenged them on these views, but no amount of reasoning on our part could do anything to counter their long-held views. This is not surprising. After all, one’s beliefs, once established, are hard to shift. We welcome information that strengthens what we already believe and largely reject that which challenges our convictions. My grandparents had been brought up on these understandings and weren’t suddenly going to change their view due to the cajoling of some family members rather late in life. Such beliefs were firmly embedded and any new information was either chosen, or manipulated, to suit conclusions they had already made.
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Some of you may suggest that advice from a credible source would have been more effective. Unfortunately, this was not the case. My grandparents’ doctor was relied upon to write prescriptions but was not depended on for such things as dietary guidance. Both aged relatives trusting sources that supported what they already believed and suspicious of those that did not. This is not an unusual position to take. Whilst scientists and ex vice presidents will use the pages of evidence on raising atmospheric carbon dioxide levels, glacial ice loss, and increasing global and sea temperatures, from environment research centres, to predict a tricky future for mankind. Grand Old Party members and television car show presenters will think that the whole thing is a hoax manufactured by anti-industrialists.
And though we may scoff at this. Many of us are guilty of the same charge. If final proof on the rising water levels were to be published in the leading climate change journal, by the most eminent scientists in the field. This would convince some that action was needed. If, however, the person who sits next to us at work, heard from their cousin, who happens to have spoken to someone in a bar, who had read online that the whole thing was made up. Many of us would sleep soundly that night, with the heating on full, because this perspective suits us better.
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Selective acceptance of the evidence is not only limited to such politically fuelled discussions as the impending climate catastrophe. As demonstrated by my grandparents, it also holds true for many of our individual behaviours. For each us who believes the evidential warnings on cigarettes packs, there is one who heard about someone’s gran who smoked forty a day and ran her first marathon at the age of 120. For every responsible parent who adheres to the seatbelt laws to their fullest extent, there is a man (or woman) in a barber shop (or stylists) talking about the person they heard about, who was strangled by these lifesaving restraints whilst reversing into a parking space.
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So, what does this mean for what we eat? The simple conclusion is that for many of us, no end of scientists warning us of the dangers of consuming too much sugar can de-programme us from a childhood in which our grandparents groomed and rewarded us with cake and ice cream. ‘Everything in moderation’ is a more amenable message than one promoting abstinence over indulgence, irrespective of a lack of clarity in the expression and our subjective view of balance.
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It would appear that our beliefs, in many instances, have a complex and complicated past. Whilst for a lot of us, they have a much simpler future. We trust what we believe and we therefore have faith in those who agree with us. Such a position suggests that there is nothing new for us to learn. A paradoxical stance, as it can only be our ignorance that can lead us to be so arrogant. Our history, as a species, contains many a story of accepted and strongly held beliefs, that have been disproved in time. So, maybe we should be more receptive to suggestion and align what we believe with what those who work in the field have learned. We should try to improve our own knowledge and adapt our beliefs to suit. And at the moment, the best way to do that is for you to open your minds and read on.
Dr Idiot says
Not so long along, most people believed the world to be flat. However, some at the time, said that they actually thought it was spherical. Nowadays, most people think the world is spherical but some - mostly in California - still believe it is flat. I guess the moral of this story, is that just because a lot of people agree on something, doesn’t mean that they are right. Or the moral could be, just because people question a belief, doesn’t mean that it is wrong. Actually, perhaps the real moral is, it doesn’t matter how much evidence we have to support an argument, some people will still not believe it. So, the real moral could be that we should use modern science to challenge our beliefs. Mind you, science is always modern at the time, but is not always found to be right later on. I guess the thing to really take from this is that whether the world is flat or spherical it doesn’t change our life a great deal, we can still buy foot massagers and watch cable television.
Knowledge
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I had the distinct feeling throughout much of my schooling that the teachers were not necessarily trained, or themselves educated, in the subjects they had been charged to teach us on. I may not, however, be the most credible witness. I spent the majority of my time, during most lessons, either staring out of the window at the wonders of whatever was happening outside of the classroom, or doodling in whichever book I was meant to be working in. Rare was it that I was actually focusing on anything being written on the chalk board, or whatever the teacher might be saying. In the most part school failed to light the fires of curiosity in me. The majority of subjects, or lessons, unable to spark any kind of interest.
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I say most, as it wasn’t all. Amongst the weekly timetable, constructed to deliver a considered syllabus, there was one subject I looked forward to. One class in which I came to life. Amongst the slog and drudgery of my agenda, there was a lesson that stirred both my interest and my enthusiasm. And it was called Home Economics.
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To some, this subject - not compulsory in our school - covered all aspects of life and the basics of many home skills. In our school, it was mostly cookery lessons. However, it would appear that the school struggled to find a member of the teaching staff with the correct know how to cover the extensive HE curriculum. Such that, instead of recruiting an experienced teacher, with an understanding and knowledge of the topic, they turned to one the Head teacher’s office staff to complete the task. The person in question was, without doubt, my favourite ‘teacher’ as they ignored all the things we would be examined on and based our lessons around preparing their favourite foods.
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It was no surprise, therefore, that when faced with a question on nutrition, or health, or something about paying bills, within the exam, I did not know how to begin to answer. I therefore did what many students do in such circumstances and wrote down everything I had learned in the subject. Irrespective as to whether this was relevant to the question/s being asked. Occasionally finishing off with some of the doodles I had perfected in other lessons.
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I like to think that although I did not receive a high grade, the examiner enjoyed marking my work. Not so much due to the satisfaction of finding a student fulfilling their potential, but rather because they would have ended up with a collection of recipes that I had learned throughout the course, including toffee, caramel, chocolate sauce and a number of other things to add to ice cream. Although not the ice cream itself. I like to think this would have been a nice break from handing out high grades for perfect answers, but it may be no coincidence that soon after this anyone wanting to work in the education sector was required to obtain suitable qualifications before doing so. The importance of mandatory teacher training finally becoming recognised.
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I would not be one who argues against the benefit of a sound and solid schooling. Although I would also not necessarily agree with those who consider it the be all and end all. In the face of a new, or newly prominent, ‘social crisis’, there are always a number of people declaring that the solution lies solely in education. Suggesting that incorporating lessons, on whatever public ill is blighting our country, into our schools or adult education centres, is all it will take to turn things around. Feeling that education holds all the answers.
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This, in my opinion, is a rather romantic view. I have never found knowledge to be a prerequisite for considered action. ‘I know I shouldn’t do this but …’ precedes many a cake cutting, cigarette lighting or drink pouring. Knowing does not mean doing. The concept that if we tell someone something it will change how they behave, has infected our way of thinking for too long. We have bumbled forward under the misapprehension that if we sit people down, tell them not to smoke, not to drink too much, never to steal, or kill, or lie, or covert the neighbour’s donkey, that they will finally understand and change their ways forever. As a population, we are generally pretty clear on most of these issues, yet they still happen.
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For years, trusting soles have insisted that all it takes to turn the country into a land of salad munchers is some carefully placed lessons and educational material on healthy eating. This is not my experience. It appears to me that we can shout at people that certain foods are bad for them, until we are hoarse, but it is unlikely to have any effect if everything else stays the same. Our words, no matter how loudly they are delivered, have as much chance of persuading the impoverished parents of four fussy eaters to buy organic broccoli, as they do of converting the career criminal who has just returned home from their latest stretch to find no food in the fridge but an open door down the road. It may work on some but probably not as many as we would like.
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Knowledge is good. It is useful in its place. But it doesn’t solve anything unless you have both the ability and the desire to use it. It doesn’t matter how many people tell me that organic-line-caught-wild-salmon is good for me, until I can afford it and develop a taste for it, it won’t make it on to my plate. In fact, some may argue that being well-informed, but powerless to act on our knowledge, is actually worse than not knowing. That blissful ignorance is a more comfortable place, as it allows us not to be troubled by feelings of guilt or inadequacy.
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So, by all means let’s give people the knowledge they need to make the best decisions when it comes to their food, but let’s make sure they have the ability to act on it as well. Otherwise, all we are doing is make them feel bad about their newly learned failings.
Reader’s writes
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Dear Dr Idiot,
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Do you know a good recipe for a kale, spinach and spirulina shake?
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Yours greenily
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Sally Shaker-maker
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Dr Idiot replies:
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Dear Sally Shaker-maker,
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No, no one does.
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Have them in a salad or stir-fry instead.
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Yours sincerely
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Dr Idiot
Capability
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We had a (very) little joke in our family. That was rolled out every time my Dad was left to look after us, without any other adult support. Referring to each of these occasions as ‘Fry-days’, in reference to the only cooking technique he had mastered and hence the meal we would have under his charge. Coincidentally these were some of my favourite evenings as a child. As it normally concluded with us eating a large platter of fried food, in front of the TV.
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One must not be too harsh a judge on my father for his limited food repertoire. He was actually encouraged to keep the recipes simple, on such occasions, after one especially exciting evening, in which we all enjoyed a rather hurried ambulance ride as a result of him trying to slice some onions. Thankfully he regained full function in the aforementioned hand. Although the delicate scar bisecting his thumb and index finger, along with the light red stains around the grouting in the kitchen, was a constant warning to not let him do more cooking than was necessary.
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Having accepted my father’s limited ability in the kitchen, we settled into a comfortable routine that served us well over a number of years. He would never get too creative with the appliances or ingredients and we would accept it as a sensible approach if we were to avoid Accident and Emergency on a busy weekday evening. Then the microwave was invented and that changed everything.
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My parents’ was a traditional house, with traditional roles. My Dad claimed ownership of the garage and attic, my Mum the bathroom and kitchen. Similarly, technology was my father’s responsibility. Despite his reluctance to read, or follow any operating instructions; TV remote, setting the video, changing light bulbs, the thermostat, were all gadgetry under his supervision. And so it was that the microwave, with its digital reading and push button design, empowered my Dad with a new responsibility in the kitchen.
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Suddenly, with the addition of this new mysterious gadget, he could cook a whole range of new recipes. It wasn’t so much cooking, as pressing buttons and programming machinery to heat food to nuclear levels. But it now meant that every evening on which he was left to care for us was an adventure in radioactive cookery; rubbery meat, exploding eggs and spewing soup were all churned out for our sustenance with a proud smile from the newly qualified microwave operative. With this one development, my Dad was empowered to change the cooking habits he had been following for years and we were subsequently exposed to a broader, if slightly overcooked, diet.
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I use this rather clumsy analogy to highlight that the (perceived or real) ability to do something is paramount to it being done. Even if you want to grow your own broccoli, the habitat of your one bed basement flat, situated below the fried chicken takeaway, may make that tricky. Similarly, although I am always very appreciative when the rich and famous are able to take time out from their long lunches and spa sessions to tell us how to live our lives, bring up our children, exercise and eat. The fact that I do not possess their inexhaustible supply of cash stops me from following their advice.
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We can all recommend an organic lobster diet at a yoga retreat in India, but to actually follow this, one must take the time off work, fly business class to Delhi, get a private sea plane to the coast and spend a month with children, nanny and personal trainer in a $20,000 a night villa. The reality is if you have 2.2 children, a full-time job, mortgage and an elderly relative to look after, it can be a little difficult to find the funds to support a fleet of cars, private jet and a large staff.
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Because of this, such advice can seem a little patronising. After all, very little of it is new; it is just repackaged to be presented glossily by whichever celebrity wants to add to their millions. Even before they share their rather smug wisdom, many of us may know what we are meant to be doing, but it does not mean that we can actually do it. However nice it is to hear what our lives would be like if we had access to a Hollywood wage and services. Their advice is of little help without these things.
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That is not to say that such a luminary existence comes with total liberty itself. None of us, even the superrich, has a complete freedom of choice. We all must select from what is available to us, with these restrictions tighter on some than others. For example, we can put up healthy eating advice in every prison cell in the country, but once the doors are open the inmates can still only choose from what is being served in the canteen. Obviously, there may be no choice of restaurant, or cooking facilities in our jails. Leaving some to argue that the physical situation of every prisoner is quite different to those of us yet to be punished for our crimes. But the reasoning is the same.
We cannot just do what we want, whenever we want, as much as we want, because we don’t have a total freedom to do so. We may not be imprisoned within the sturdy walls of a well-guarded correction facility, but we are still confined within the financial, cultural, social or skilful boundaries in which we live our lives. For some these confines are greater than for others, but they are limiting to some degree for all of us.
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I would suggest Hollywood’s elite bare this in mind, in between telling us how we should all be behaving.
Dr Idiot gets quizzical
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All the individual factors I discuss in this chapter have an impact of your food actions. Knowing the things that influence what you eat can be useful. Take my quiz below, to understand how your emotions and beliefs determine what kind of eater you are.
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Question 1) You are staying at a nice hotel, which provides a ‘complimentary’ breakfast buffet as a part of your stay. Do you:
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A – Think you are on holiday, so you should have something tasty for breakfast, especially as it is included in the price. You have bacon and eggs with toast as this looks nice. But this breaks your diet. Why did you do this to yourself? You are worthless. You don’t deserve to be slim. You go back and get some fried bread, sausages and potatoes. Now you get what you deserve. You feed the shame.
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B – You are careful in what you eat. You choose the muesli and some fruit. But the fruit is alittle sour and the muesli bland. You add some syrup until it is just the right level of sweetness.
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C –You start off with porridge and sultanas. This makes you feel good. You have done well to stick to your diet, as a reward you have a croissant with chocolate spread.
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D –You lean on the counters and put your face right in the dishes, eating everything you can.
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Question 2) On your walk to work you pass a stall selling freshly baked goods. They smell amazing. Do you:
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A – Just buy one little sweet bun and eat it as you walk. But you then stop, the guilt slowing you down. You have already had breakfast, you didn’t need the bun. You go back and buy another three, stuffing them into your mouth. A glutinous penance for your sins.
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B – You stop and buy just a small bread roll, they smell so good and you didn’t have time to make breakfast. You stop at the next shop and buy butter which you squeeze into the middle before eating it.
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C – You shun the stall. You are stronger than that. You are better than those weak-kneed dependents queuing as if they had never seen bread before. Flushed with pride you stop at the next takeaway and buy a kebab.
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D –You burst into the stall, grab as many of the goods as you can and run off across the road before the owner can catch you.
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Question 3) It is tea break time at work, so you make yourself a nice cup. Someone from Accounts has just come back from her holiday and has left out some biscuits. Do you:
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A – Have one, just to try them, they would be good with a cup of tea. But my they are sweet, that is more sugar than you need all week. No point fighting it now, you polish off the rest of the pack whilst no one is looking.
B – You will not have the biscuits, biscuits are your mortal enemy, you must resist. You add a little more sugar into your tea to satisfy your craving.
C – You reject the biscuits but have a look at them to know that you can. You have also given up tea as you are trying to avoid caffeine. You return to your desk and smugly eat a large tub of low-fat yoghurt in celebration.
D - You run into the staff kitchen and eat all the biscuits before anyone else has a chance to try them.
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Question 4) You are catching up with old friends for lunch. Talk has turned to how much weight everyone has put on, or lost, do you:
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A – Feel so bad about the weight gain you order three courses with wine and stare furiously at your slimmer companions, all of whom have the cheek to feel proud about their relative slenderness.
B – You just have a salad. You don’t want to look greedy in front of old friends. You choose the one that is only green leaves, tomatoes and olives, with a side of blue cheese dressing to add some flavour.
C – You just have a salad. You don’t want to look greedy in front of old friends. You choose the one that is only green leaves, tomatoes and olives. You don’t order a large jug of blue cheese dressing to make it taste nice, so eat it as it is. You bound out of the restaurant flushed with satisfaction and buy an ice cream on the walk back to the car.
D - You eat your food hurriedly, then try to eat your friends’ food as well. When you have finished eating you try to hump someone at another table.
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Question 5) You are having dinner at home with the family. You like to encourage family meals. Tonight is your turn to cook. Do you:
A – Snack on the ingredients whilst you are preparing the dinner. You would have a small portion but there doesn’t seem to be much point now, does there?
B – You make a vegetable dish and serve it with brown pasta. You grate a hand size lump of cheese and dump it on top.
C – You make a vegetable dish and serve it with brown pasta. You don’t grate a hand size lump of cheese and dump it on top. You are delighted and feel good to have eaten a healthy meal. You deserve a slice of chocolate cake, maybe two.
D –You don’t make the meal and don’t join the family at the table but eat the food that ends up on the floor. When someone leaves the table you finish off what they have left. You are hit with a rolled-up newspaper for your disobedience.
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Question 6) You go out on your weekly film night. You have chosen a romantic comedy. Do you:
A – Buy some popcorn. You ask for small but the large doesn’t cost much more. You eat the lot before you go into the toilets to curse yourself in the mirror so hard that the emergency services are called.
B – You take your own popcorn. A small portion lightly salted. This makes you thirsty, so you buy a large soft drink.
C – You don’t take anything; you don’t buy anything. You enjoy the film. Afterwards, buoyed by the success of the evening you buy a couple of hot dogs to eat as you walk to the car.
D – You are banned from the cinema.
Types of eater categories
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Mostly A’s –
You are what I call a guilt eater. You may break your diet every now and again, but you end up feeling so bad about doing so that you enter a shame spiral, gorging yourself on food as punishment for your indiscretion.
Relax, cut yourself some slack, you can eat a little good stuff every now and again. Take a chill pill, just make sure to wash it down with water and not high sugar soda.
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Mostly B’s –
Ah, an unhealthy creator. How do you do it? You take every single kind of healthy food and make it unhealthy. Bravo, it’s not easy to do. You seem to do on a personal basis what industry has perfected over many years. Just hold off from those last-minute additions.
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Mostly C’s –
You are a treater, you eat well and healthily and then you feel good and think you deserve a reward, normally reaching for something sweet or indulgent. Why not treat yourself to something you can’t consume?
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Mostly D’s –
Bad dog! Bad dog! To your bed!
Mood and emotions
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The first thing most people will do on hearing of bad news from a friend or family member, is offer them a cup of tea, or glass of wine. Normally served alongside an array of spirit lifting snacks. When company is hard to find, or not wanted, many a low individual will self-treat, through the medicinal opening of a box of chocolates. Similarly, it is not unusual to prescribe a large cookie, or cake slice, for a saddened child, particularly when grandparents are involved. Whilst a bottle of milk proves to be a first point of call for many an exhausted parent, when trying to placate a crying baby. Food can be a comforter for many of us. A way to part the grey clouds that form from time to time.
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It is not just low moods that can encourage such consumption. It is not unusual to turn to foods at the height of our happiness. Our contentment clouding any thoughts of restraint and the subsequent feasting often lifting our mood even higher. Diet and emotions live in a continual state of synergy, feeding off each other as they dip and rise throughout the days, weeks and years. Emotions not only dictate what we eat, but they themselves are dictated by it. The treat that cheers us, or the moment of excess that brings later shame.
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The complex interaction between our emotions and our diet is highlighted further by the fact that some moods can differ in their stimulated response by person, place or time. Anxiety and angst lead some of us to eat, but turn others away from food completely. With many rejecting food until the cloud of tension has lifted completely. Stress, it seems, can deliver appetite or aversion depending on circumstances or the individual.
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You may not be surprised to hear that I am one of those for whom a little apprehension leads straight to the snack draw. I can recount numerous first dates which ended prematurely as I finished my third bag of pub nuts, a jumbo box of cinema popcorn, or my date’s starter. I failed my driving test by munching down a family size packet of crisps before pulling out into traffic. I also once botched a job interview after polishing off a tray of biscuits that had been left in the waiting room for applicants. My crumb marked face, peering up from an empty platter, persuading the panel that no interview was necessary.
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Following every telling off or argument, as a child, I would seek refuge in a packet of crisps or the biscuit barrel. And whilst for most exam sitters there is a careful and considered arranging of pen and pencils, slide rulers, erasers, even calculators, around their assigned desk, before commencement. Most of my exam preparation was spent in the packing of a snack bag. Whilst others were revising for their upcoming tests by completing past exams and designing mnemonics to recall scientific formulae or historical orders and dates, I was running an extensive testing programme to determine which snacks I could eat the quietest. So as not to disturb my classmates. Where others felt they were ready for their national standardised assessments once they had revised the necessary curriculum. I knew preparation was complete, when I had a designated and timed order of food consumption, to get me through the two hours of testing.
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Some of you may be expecting me to now report that if stress drove me to food, more relaxed or happier dispositions allowed me to forget or forego such temptations. Others will not be surprised to learn that almost all my moods are either influenced by, or influence, what I eat. Hunger, causing anxiety, leading me to eat; anxiety calling for distraction, doing the same. Low moods leading to depressed snacking. Happy ones instigating joyful ingestion initially, but then a subsequent low of overindulgence leading me to abandon all restraint in anger, cross with myself that I showed such little self-control.
I am not alone here. We are all, to some degree, emotional eaters. Food would not be so prominent in our lives if we weren’t. Mood is what restaurants, supermarkets and advertisers sell. They may provide the food, but it is the emotions around that food that makes us buy it. The feelings we get from eating are paramount to our choice of diet. Few people I know enjoy a trip to the petrol station. Without the moods associated with our food, that is what eating would be: impassive refuelling. There would be little variety or choice in our food, little sociability or occasion to our meals. Consumption would be clean and efficient.
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It seems we are stuck with our emotions. So let’s try to find other ways to deal with them. If life gets on top of you a little, instead of reaching for that bag of sweets or pack of cookies, try to find other ways to alleviate your stress. Exercise, for example, can be a positive head clearer. Try my fruit and vegetable themed yoga (below), which not only eases tension but also helps you to associate positively with healthy foods.
Dr Idiot gets physical
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My fruit and vegetable themed yoga is developed from the extensive yoga training I presume those who wrote the websites I took these from underwent. Each position mirrors a vegetable or fruit and is designed to ease tension and help you enjoy healthy food.
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The carrot: Stand still and stretch your arms above your head. Breathe in deeply and then say ‘vegetables’ slowly as you breathe out.
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The strawberry: Sit on the floor, bend knees and open them wide, joining the soles of your feet together while sitting upright. Breath in slowly lengthen your spine, then breath out slowly saying ‘vitamins’.
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The broccoli: Get into a handstand position, resting your feet against a wall. Open your legs as you breathe in and as you breathe out close your legs and say ‘brassica’.
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The banana: Lie face down on the floor, place hands in line with your chest, and straighten your arms lifting your body upwards spreading your chest wide as you say ‘fibre’.
Genes
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Even though my parents were not blessed with a tight waist and slim chest, there was still a noticeable increase in girth and an expanding circumference from the waist downwards. It dawned on me later in life that I never saw either of them stumble or fall. Their low-slung centre of gravity righting them whenever they moved slightly off kilter.
These physical attributes were apparent in both set of grandparents as well and there was not one direct relative I could look to, whose frame would fit into the standard ratios of an off-the-peg suit. Any jacket that sat comfortably on the shoulders, or around the chest, despite not being small itself, usually came with a pair of trousers that would struggle to make it above knee height once on the legs of anyone in my immediate lineage.
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The first suggestion that these battles against the standard proportions of the average shopper I witnessed in my older relatives, was a window to my future, came from my Mum during my early teens. Whilst we were out shopping in preparation for a new school year. After finding a pair of cotton grey school-ready trousers, that fitted reasonably well, she rejected them, suggesting instead that I get a larger pair as I would find myself growing into them soon enough. It was time, she rather pointedly continued, that I accepted that I would inherit the Diot bum and thighs.
I don’t remember how long I cried after receiving this news, but my shank and hock did continue to mature over the following years, as predicted. To such a point that the initial ‘baggy trousers’, provided a comfortable fit by the time I left compulsory education. Over the years I have come to terms with this fate and settled my differences with what lies beneath my waist. Generally accepting it as a heritable burden, that I was never going to avoid.
That is until recently. When a few rays of hope broke through the misery of such hereditary misfortunes, in the form of human genome sequencing. With its initial promise of solving all genetic diseases, along with inherited physiques, suggesting that there may be a way to avoid my cruel bottom-heavy fate.
Hope, it appears can be a tease, almost as often as it can be supportive. With so much riding on these scientific developments, including my svelte legged happiness. It was a little disappointing that when we finally arrived at a full encyclopaedia of our species’ genetics, we simply realised how much more complicated everything was than we had previously thought. It was like reaching the summit of Everest, only to scan left and see the looming presence of a higher peak looking down on us. Its shadow cast over in our direction, keeping us, for all intents and purposes, still in the dark.
Rather than finally discovering a complete map, that explains all our characteristics from height and weight to omelette making ability, we learned that things are a lot more complicated than we originally thought. Our major discovery, as far as I understand it, boils down to the principle that whilst we may be at the mercy of our inherited blueprint, it carries a range of possibilities rather than a definitive plan. The final design dependent on the conditions we are exposed to.
Others take this one step further, in contending that it is not just our environment that is moulding us, but also the environment of those who went before. They advise, that whilst we would do well to consider our surroundings, we must also consider the experiences of those who preceded us.
To put it in a way I just about understand. I think that your grandmother’s diet, sometime before your mother was born, may have impacted on how your genes make you eat. More scarily it suggests, to me at least, that not only do we have to accept the hand we have been dealt, but we may also have to shoulder the blame for those who come next. It may now be our diet that influences the genes of our grandchildren, or their grandchildren, or their grandchildren’s grandchildren, so on and so forth. Every meal we eat is a potential hazard, not only for our own suit purchasing pursuits, but also for those of our descendants.
Although it would appear that changing our genes to allow us to buy off-the-peg is beyond our current scientific means. It would seem that we may be able to change those of our future offspring. Never have we had more motivation to understand the things that affect our food choices. As doing so will not only benefit us but will also advantage those who may follow. If you feel this is too great a responsibility, continue reading. In the next chapter I devolve you of a good deal of accountability over such things, by describing the people around you and how they influence what you eat.