Firstly, I will say that my body and I have had our ups and downs. I treated her terribly in my twenties. And so she decided to teach me a lesson. Somewhere between 23 and 24 she stopped conquering junk food and just got (dare I say it) fat. I hated myself for about two years. Then I decided she deserved more so I changed my lifestyle, lost 53lbs and learned a lesson in self-love.
That is, until I treated myself every now and again to the sweet stuff. It was as though my body had muscle memory. Or fat memory. She decided she did not want to go back there, she made me feel like rubbish every time I indulged and I came to the conclusion that not even a morsel of cake was ever to touch these lips again.
So I learned a little about mind over matter. Chronic overthinking often gets me into trouble. So my next exercise regime was all about the brain… (see Calm.com’s meditation courses). A few months of Dalai Lama impersonating seems to be one of the reasons my body will now let me eat cake.
And what cake this is. From Peggy Porschen in Belgravia, London – a pink palace with a dream-like interior and only about six tables so it always feels quaint and beautiful.
I ordered the prosecco cake and sugar plum tea. The boy ordered the vanilla cloud cake and homemade hot chocolate. We sat at a marble table surrounded by gingerbread houses and snow-topped Christmas trees, while sweet songs trickled from the radio and staff sang along behind the counter. It’s moments like this that my body now says it’s content. It’s happy to take on the sugar load, not give way to the guilt and just taste the sweetness and savour the moment. This sweet treat was about much more than sugar. Thanks Peggy, you’ve enlightened my 2018.