Diet of the Month- The Self-Loathing Diet

Usually, when I pick Diet of the Month, I choose something legitimate and well-publicised, but this month I wanted to do something a little bit different. In the coming months, I’m going to talk about a diet that we’ve all put our weary selves on at one point or another- the Self-Loathing Diet.

Unlike other, established diets, the Self-Loathing diet has only one rule- there are no rules. Apart from the rule about the no rules, but you get the point. On the Self-Loathing diet, anything goes.

The Self-Loathing diet is a long process of stages- each stage more painstaking and depressing than the last. In this post, I am going to talk about Phase 1 of the Self-Loathing Diet: Triggers. In later months, I’ll explore the other phases, such as Phase 2: Starving Your Bastard Self Until You Dry-Heave Air, Phase 3: Exercising Until You Faint or  Phase 4:The Realisation That You’d Rather Die Fat And Happy, Than Thin And Miserable.

Phase 1: Self-Loathing Diet Triggers

Discovering your jeans don’t zip up without having to use a clothes hanger to wedge yourself into them.

Unwrapping a birthday/Christmas present that you bought for someone else, and eating it while swearing you’ll replace it, then eating the replacement too.

Changing your Facebook settings to ensure you can review all tagged photos prior to them appearing on your Facebook wall, because you know you’ll look like Vanessa Feltz’s older, fatter grandmother in any pending pictures.

The only vegetables you eat are deep fried. And chips.

The checkout representative scanning your shopping gestures to your items and says, ‘Having a party, are we?’ and you’re not. You’re having a night in on your own.

You are congratulated on your pregnancy. So you have to spit out your cake to tell the bastard that you aren’t pregnant.

Your way of dealing with your insecurities about food is to cry while eating more food.

Your first thought when someone dies is ‘Great! An excuse to eat white bread.’

You walk into a Chinese Herbal Medicine shop and the shop assistant guides you towards the fat pills before you’ve even opened your mouth. Then you say you’re there for sleeping tablets and the assistant replies, ‘OK, so fat pills AND sleeping tablets?’

You make sure to stage your bikini photographs in a body-flattering way, such as jumping in the pool with your arms stretched in the air, or stretched out on a sun lounger with your stomach sucked in. When people question your strange expression, you tell them that you had food poisoning.

Come to think of it, every photograph is strategic and you can’t let your guard down. Because if it wasn’t, you look like Gemma off TOWIE.

You sing along to ‘I Am What I Am’, louder than anyone else.

The fresh fruit and vegetable bit of your fridge is filled with chocolate and sweets. Well, the empty wrappers of the aformentioned items.

You joke with your mates that the words ‘Death By Chocolate’ will adorn your gravestone, but you’re secretly shitting yourself that it actually happens. And that you’ll have to get a specially-made coffin. And that they’ll have to wheel your coffin through the church with a crane. And the crane breaks.

You realise that the t-shirt that you’re wearing is actually a six-man tent.

You’re offered a modelling job for Closer magazine, and when you get there, you find out it’s for a feature called, ‘Fat Lasses Who Don’t Really Mind Being Fat’.

You cry at any TV programme that depicts the plight of a child who gets picked last for sports.

You have a fridge-magnet, given to you by a friend, that makes reference to how you love food more than men. And instead if taking that hint given to you by a so-called friend, you put it up on your fridge and laugh at it every time you see it.

You go out and get pissed just so you have an excuse to have a kebab at the end of the night.

The people on Biggest Loser look normal to you when the series starts.

Your party trick is not being able to see your feet.


So there you have it, folks- a few of the endless Self-Loathing diet triggers. Or triggers for eating disorders in general. Join me next month when I explore characteristics of Phase 2 of the Self-Loathing Diet: Starving Your Bastard Self Until You Dry Heave Air.

If I’m not too busy jumping in front of a bus.

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