I ate the whole thing, and almost killed myself in the process, but I was damned if I was going to be beaten by a parma, of all things. Admittedly I felt a little ill after consuming this huge volume of food, but nothing more than I’ve felt after some of the large meals I cook myself (yes mum, I’m looking after myself).
Anyway, fast forward to the alarm going off this morning. I woke up with that seedy taste in my mouth – like the whole thing was covered in grease – feeling dehydrated, and with the onset of a slight headache. In between falling out of bed and hitting the floor I had time to muse that this felt rather like a hangover (not that I’ve ever had one of course, I’m not into that whole binge drinking culture). But sitting at the breakfast table nursing a Berocca and some early-morning Weet-Bix I did reflect that perhaps overeating is very similar to overindulging in alcohol (from a purely hypothetical standpoint of course).
There’s the peer pressure to eat everything on the plate in a small time period. The under-abundance of water to re-hydrate with. The inability to walk straight afterward. The sinking feeling as you realise that you’ve done it again even though you told yourself you wouldn’t. And, most importantly, the hangover the next morning, when you tell yourself that you won’t do it again. Ever.