I realised recently I get hangry. You know, so hungry it makes you angry. Or depressed. I’m a slim woman with a big appetite. I eat a lot, but my size proves I obviously need to eat that much.
The hangry thing kicked in (unsurprisingly) after the ridiculously long runs I was doing to train for my half marathon. By late afternoon everything was too much for me. I was shouting and grumpy and I knew it. But I could do nothing to stop it. Apart from eat. After running 10 or 12 miles it feels like I need to eat and eat and eat and never stop. The food just doesn’t touch the sides. My body tells me what I need – sweet or savoury – and I have to have it INSTANTLY.
The sweet cravings are for Tropicana Smooth orange juice (no other type will do) or chocolate – good old Green & Blacks Maya Gold or Snickers. Sometimes it can be hard to get hold of the Tropicana and I will drive or walk around in a trance-like state desperate for a hit. None in Sainsburys, none in Boots (they’ve started stocking the Tropican 50/50 nonsense, it’s like over-priced Capri Sun)…
As someone who eats neither bread nor crisps because of my IBS the savoury cravings can be harder to deal with. In desperation recently I bought a slice of pizza, wolfed it down, chucked the box in the outside bin to destroy the evidence (totally against my green principles) and sat down to a large plate of spaghetti bolognaise an hour later.
The day before Good Friday I set myself an impossible mission. Now I hate housework at the best of times. But I do it. Not a lot, though. I hate housework with the kids home even more. But I wanted it out of the way before the Easter weekend and I had tickets for the cinema with the kids in the afternoon. It all had to be done in the morning:
- Changing all the beds
- Hoovering the house
- Sorting the recycling – putting some out for collection and taking the rest to the banks at the supermarket
- A bit of shopping
- Buying Easter eggs for my family
- Addressing envelopes for my daughter’s thank you letters (didn’t get done)
- Taking passport applications to the Post Office to post (also didn’t get done)
It started OK. I felt motivated. But then I started to feel tired and fed-up. I just had to keep going. Nearly done, only the supermarket and Easter egg shopping to go… But where were the Easter eggs? Why only the £10 posh ones left? Then I started to get upset.
Now I don’t generally care much about what my house looks like, but I DO love daffodils and always have some for Easter. There were no daffodils left. Well, just a couple of poxy bunches of ‘speciality daffodils’. I didn’t WANT speciality daffodils. I wanted normal daffodils. Normal, bright yellow daffodils with lovely, big, yellow trumpets.
I bumped into my Mum. She told me Waitrose had Easter eggs. Why did I listen to her?! Of course they only had posh, expensive ones too.
I was getting more and more depressed by the minute. The whole world was caving in on me. The houswork. The Easter eggs. The daffodils…
Time was ticking on. We needed our lunch before the cinema. We went to our usual place in town. And then the final insult. They’d run out of my usual. There was NOTHING for me to eat.
In desperation, I broke all of the rules. I bought a cheese and tomato baguette. I sat down. I took two mouthfuls of bread and cheese and tomato and all the stressed flowed away.
The housework was done. The Easter eggs were just Easter eggs. The daffodils were just daffodils.
I wasn’t stressed or depressed. Not really. I was just hangry.