It's no use, I'm going to have to admit that I love food and it is an emotional crutch for me. (That and wine)
I'm sad, I eat. I'm happy, I eat.
Eat to celebrate, eat to commiserate. I eat when I'm stressed, and over stretched, and I eat when I'm bored or lonely.
I like to eat with friends, and insist on a meal out with the hubby once in a while. Love a BBQ.
I like eating out in restaurants and pubs, I like eating in the open air... I like takeaways...
I really like cooking (with a glass of wine) and being creative with ingredients. I LOVE trying new recipes and new dishes from foreign countries.
When I go into a supermarket abroad I just wander down the aisles fascinated by the different food and smells and awkward sounding names.
I worry that it's an actual hobby, an interest. I'm usually waiting for the next meal.
I'm the opposite of that Sam I Am character.
Yes I'll eat them on a house, yes I'll eat them on a mouse.
I WILL eat them on a chair, I WILL eat them ANYWHERE.
Houston, we have a problem, Nic can't stop eating. Any ideas?
Now if you'll excuse me for a minute, I'm feeling a bit peckish...