I bloody love Easter. Like, a four day weekend (sandwiched in between two four day weeks) and a celebration commemorated in chocolate and alcohol? Count me in. This year, I’m hosting lunch for 25 people. Don’t ask me why – a few months ago it seemed like the perfect idea and now, after hundreds of pounds spent on shoulders of lamb, pastel coloured tulips and bunny statues made of grass, I am admittedly questioning my motives. Nah, I’m actually really excited. For me, this time of year is the best. It’s the slow run up to Summer and the Bank Holidays seem to be bottomless. Plus, it’s due to be super sunny this weekend and I am all over sunbathing topless in my back garden. Any excuse to get my tits out.
Perhaps only slightly more than the copious amounts of Cava, I am excited to sit back and spend some time with those that I love this weekend. Hosting means I get to handpick a guest list of all my favourite people and I just can’t wait for us to catch up over slow cooked lamb and ice-cold Pimms. You might have already noticed, but a very large part of why I’m so excited for Easter weekend is the food. I love food. Seriously, those people who only eat to live and take no pleasure in what they consume are alien to me. I spend so much time at work googling pictures of juicy fried chicken burgers, hunting through food porn hashtags and watching those videos where they scoop melted cheese onto anything and everything. I. Love. Food. So Easter, and a chance to truly indulge and adopt the ‘fuck it’ mentality, is my idea of heaven.
In years gone by I would have purged post-celebration. I would have fasted and juiced and not allowed myself any joyous carbs until I’d shed the lbs that Easter had gifted me. Thankfully, in the last few years I have learned better. I am allowed to enjoy myself. I am allowed to treat my body. There is nothing wrong with eating and drinking and giving yourself pleasure and nourishment.
Promise me that you won’t feel guilty if you treat yourself this weekend? The foods you choose to eat are not ‘good’ or ‘bad’, and eating them doesn’t make you ‘good’ or ‘bad’ either. It’s food, and food will never be an indication of your value. You do not have to punish yourself or ‘make up’ for the calories consumed in any given time period. You are beautiful, regardless of how many Easter eggs or glasses of wine you devour. Beauty doesn’t have a weight limit, and your response to the amount of space that my body inhabits, defines you and not me. Have fun. Drink loads or don’t drink at all, whatever you want. Listen to your body and tell post-food guilt where to go. Make like Nell and drape yourself in florals and a red lip for four days in a row, or show off your best trackies. Whatever you want. Spend time with your friends and your family and exude nothing but love, at least for this weekend. Because what a time to be alive.
You can’t live a full life on an empty stomach.