Nothing opens the appetite like exhaustion. A combination of physical and emotional fatigue seem to work best. Today I ate a bagel with cream cheese and salmon, 2 hours after I had eaten breakfast and my stomach felt like all I had done was chew a couple of sticks of gum. If anything it had made me hungrier. I moved on to the free cookie I had received when I had collected 10 loyalty stamps from the ice cream shop. Nothing. I polished off a packet of nuts and raisins. And it went on.
I have a lot of guilt every time I eat. Not because of my weight (producing milk for two babies means you can eat anything and not gain so much as a gram of fat) but because of my teeth.
I went to see my dentist, whom I love. He sat me down on his green chair, put the paper bib on, took a deep breath and asked me to give it to him straight.
“What have you been eating?” There’s an edge to his voice.
“I’ve been snacking.” I confess, sharp intake of breath but he remains calm.
“I’ve been eating sweets.” I continue.
“Haribo?” He almost whispers it. My dentist equates eating Haribo to crack cocaine.
“God no!” I exclaim. “No, shortbread biscuits, cakes things like that.”
He relaxes and has a look. He tells me it’s not that bad but that he is prescribing me Duraphat 5000 ppm as a prophylactic. It’s got 5x the amount of fluoride of regular toothpaste and should tide me through this turbulent period.
My obstetrician is similarly concerned about prophylactics. What am I using for ‘protection’ he asks without a hint of irony at my 6-week check up before giving me a prescription for the pill. Which let’s face it, is like giving a Bedouin a life boat in case the desert floods.
My standards have melted away. I look forward to my one cup of instant coffee in the morning as if it were manna from Heaven and practically cry when the cup is empty. Of course, I drink it mostly cold because you need at least one hand to drink a cup of coffee.
Another confession, I’ve been buying Marks & Spencer ready assembled meals. If that is the correct term to use. Things like raw chicken stuffed with partly cooked mushrooms and a cheesy breadcrumbed crust. I haven’t gone so far to buy a Tesco’s pizza for £3.50 but there is still time for me to descend further into the food shame abyss. I figure I might as well indulge because in 3 weeks or so I will be back in Berlin eating Brot-und-something-on-top for each of my 5 meals a day.
Ahh and the pictures in this post are of Selfridges food hall. Although terribly noisy, my favourite of the London food halls. And this month they are promoting the Great Taste Awards. I didn’t have time to linger but I did pick up the best chocolate and mint combo I’ve had in a while from Summerdown Pure Mint. A tin box of tea from The London Tea Company because I liked the box (If I was going to be that weird lady who lives with 10 cats and collects one thing, it could very well be tin food boxes). Layla had her chocolate Krispy Kreme doughnut with sprinkles and I had a salt beef sandwich on rye with a pickle from The Brass Rail. It was a good day.