I want food because I want something to happen

I was visiting my mum back in South Africa. She lives in a one-bedroom flat in a retirement village, where the pace of life is gentle enough to make a tortoise feel professionally overcommitted.

We had already caught up on everything we wanted to talk about after months apart. We had discussed the family, the neighbours, ailments, people’s children, people’s children’s ailments and several people neither of us particularly likes.

I had also watched every available repeat of Homes Under the Hammer. Some of them more than once. I was beginning to recognise properties by the damp.

And I was bored.

Not slightly restless. Not peacefully under-stimulated. Bored in a way that made the walls feel nearer.

Then the thought arrived.

I cannot sit here for another afternoon doing nothing. I need to go and find something exciting to eat.

There was food in the flat. Perfectly adequate food. But adequate was not what I wanted. I wanted an outing. A discovery. A small festival with parking.

So I got into the car with my bank card and drove out into one of the best food countries in the world, surrounded by all the things I had missed while living in the UK.

This was not a controlled environment.

I was not looking for a meal

I bought biltong. Beautiful sourdough from an artisan bakery. My favourite chocolate. Chips from the corner café drenched in salt and vinegar.

Nothing about the combination made sense because I was not assembling dinner. I was collecting events.

Chewy.
Crusty.
Sweet.
Salty.
Vinegary.
Familiar.
Missed.

Each thing offered a different sensation and, for a few minutes, something was finally happening.

This is one of the less flattering truths about wanting food all the time.

Sometimes hunger is the only interesting thing happening.

Sometimes I open a cupboard because I genuinely need to eat. Other times I open it because nothing is happening and I am hoping the cupboard has better ideas.

Perhaps cheese can intervene.

Food is very good at changing a scene quickly. You can go from sitting on the sofa staring at a repeat to driving somewhere, choosing something, unwrapping it, tasting it and wondering whether you should also have bought the other thing.

The day has acquired a plot.

Unfortunately, it is often a short one.

Food gave the evening a plot. It was not a good plot

Eating everything did not improve the evening.

It made me bloated, overfull, guilty and disgusted with myself. I stayed on the sofa feeling awful, hid the evidence as far as possible and began the usual negotiations about how exceptionally well behaved I would be tomorrow.

So food had made something happen.
It had replaced boredom with consequences.

That distinction matters because I can tell myself I was simply hungry or that I wanted a treat. But hunger does not fully explain getting into a car to search for several unrelated foods when perfectly usable food is already available.

What I wanted was movement. Novelty. A change in sensation. Something to choose and anticipate.

Dinner is over. Now what am I supposed to look forward to?

When the honest answer is “nothing much”, the evening snack can quietly become the part of the day I live for.

Food cannot be the only good thing left in the day

“Find a hobby” is irritating advice when it is thrown at someone as though she has simply forgotten hobbies exist.

But there is some truth hiding inside it.

I do need things I enjoy doing between meals. Not vague plans to become a richer, more fascinating person. Specific things I can actually look forward to.

Something I want to work on. A hobby I genuinely like. A place to go. A person to visit. Something to learn. A corner of my home I would enjoy improving. Something useful I can do for somebody I love.

It does not all have to be productive. Pleasure matters too.

The point is not to keep myself busy with unpleasant jobs until I am allowed to eat again. That would only mean being bored while doing something tedious.

It needs to be something I genuinely want to do.

A vague promise to “find something nice” is not enough when food is already specific, immediate and easy to imagine.

Food gives me something to choose, anticipate and do. If I take it away but leave the hours around it completely empty, my mind will keep returning to it.

The answer is not to pretend a walk, a project or a visit is the same as salt-and-vinegar chips.

It is to make sure food is not the only thing in the day with any colour in it.

Boredom on a diet is one of my biggest enemies. So I need things waiting for me between meals that feel enjoyable, useful or worthwhile.

Something that improves me, my surroundings, my future or somebody I care about.

Something I am glad I did afterwards.

If you take one thing from this article, let it be this:

Boredom is the number one enemy of a diet.

Give yourself something better to look forward to than food, and make sure your future skinny self has a fulfilling life to step into.