Don’t meal-shame me: a table for one at a restaurant I love is the ultimate indulgence | Megan Nolan
One London restaurant has a minimum spend for solo diners. Doesn’t it understand the pleasure of taking yourself to dinner?
In March this year my appetite left me for the first time in my life. My characteristic failing has always been a helpless, freewheeling, incontinent appetite for more or less everything: – food, men, booze – whatever is to hand, really. The problem has been moderating or neutralising it.
The idea of appetite disappearing was unthinkable, a fantasy to envision when I had overconsumed. Imagine not wanting anything; imagine food losing its complex, charged appeal without any effort or restraint. It’s the dream of women with eating issues, the ones who have squandered years anxiously scrutinising calorie charts and glycaemic indexes and BMI scales. Which is to say, many of us.
Megan Nolan is an Irish writer based in London
Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.