My friend is only eating things that are on a list.
It’s a typed A4 sheet from her trainer. If it’s not on the list, it’s not in her mouth. She says that buttering her children’s toast in the morning has become the most torturous two minutes of her day.
Another friend is juicing. She has lost 10kgs over several months. She says that if she gets made redundant this year, as she suspects she might, she might open a juice bar. Because there aren’t enough of those.
My other friend is doing Sarah Wilson, by way of Jamie Oliver. She says juice is the devil. She can’t believe parents actually give their children that poison. As if it’s healthy.
My running buddy has been doing Michelle. She looks fantastic. She says that taking tiny plastic bags of pre-prepped food to work has become second nature, and she feels five years younger.
Another friend just took me to a bar where all around us, identical men with beards and women with long, long hair ate Jatz crackers with French Onion Dip. For $7. And burgers with crinkle-cut chips and mayo that drips down your chin. The next most popular thing on the menu, apparently, is the ancient grains salad.