Being paid to eat at fancy restaurants sounded like a dream job to me, until I got to do just that, only to realise that there is a flip side to this situation. And it goes something like this…
As a hospitality journalist, I was invited to sample food at some of the best restaurants, from fast food to five star, and mostly with three course menus. For almost a year, I was surrounded by Instagram-perfect meals and gourmet gift baskets sent by well-meaning PR managers.
But if I were asked to go back to it, I am not so sure that I can do it all over again. I am not being ungrateful, I swear. I loved every minute of it while I was at it. Just that it isn’t so rosy in retrospect.
For starters, eating out as often as I did, almost every day, wrecks havoc on an already expanding waistline. For example, the seemingly small serving at Coya at Four Seasons is sinfully rich, deceiving the eye and mind. What I didn’t realise about fancy food is that the ingredients pack a punch, and can happily sit on my pouch forever.
Then there are silent repercussions. Do you remember how Miranda had a lazy ovary? I have something similar. I am not sure how active my ovaries are but my metabolism is certainly a slacker, and my hormones need medicated supervision to control rebellion. With a diet as rich and unforgiving as mine, I couldn’t control either. This is the time when my body developed insulin resistant. To say that my gynaecologist was appalled when I recounted my diet would be an understatement. Add to that the usual stress of working endless hours, and you end up with a prescription for Metformin. 2000mg a day.
And then there is booze. Despite popular belief, Dubai has enough alcohol to drown the dwarf city. While I maintained distance, imagine if I had developed a taste for wine, champagne, beer or insanely beautiful cocktails, and had a beer belly on top my already-massive stomach?! I have seen many a jawlines disappear on fellow journalists and bloggers to know how this one ends.
The problem here is abundance. Too much of it, in my face, smelling divine and looking even better. But there is an even bigger problem – self-control. Obviously I could have said no or made room for exercise in my life, but I am powerless when it comes to food. Some can turn down desserts and opt for salad instead of fries, but I am not one of those people. My first ever love affair was with food, and it’s as strong as ever. So, sad as it seem, my best bet is to maintain distance.
If you are about to suggest working out (not that I haven’t tried), may I remind you that I am Taurean, and invite you for coffee so we can discuss the perils of stepping inside a gym, over cookies and cappuccino, of course?
If you want to see all that I had, here’s a glimpse into my life. Probably 5%. in case you’d like a similar job, ITP Media Group is hiring.