I’ve written before about how much I abhor the phrase “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” Largely because it’s utter bullshit.

My second most hated fitspo mantra is

“Don’t reward yourself with food; you’re not a dog.”

Firstly. You don’t know me. Maybe I am a dog. Okay, I’m not, but that stupid phrase haunts my dreams.

At it’s core, that saying does make sense. No-one ever ‘deserves’ a burger or an entire pizza. I definitely didn’t ‘deserve’ the frozen yoghurt I ate pre-gym last night, but I’m an adult, and I wanted it, so I ate it.

The whole rewarding yourself with food thing has the same principles as – you wouldn’t keep your house tidy Monday to Friday and then completely trash it at the weekend, as a ‘reward.’ Because you’d ‘earned it.’ But the difference between housework and eating, is that one is a necessary evil, and the other is a delicious luxury.

If I could get away with not mopping my bathroom for months on end – I would. Its a pain in the tits to do, and our tiny extractor fan practically commits suicide every time trying to get the floor dry in time for one of us to pee without getting soggy socks. And I genuinely mean this – if I could get away with eating whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted, damn right I would. Being on a diet is rubbish, and there’s so many foods I don’t eat now that I would have scoffed six months ago.

For example: I went on a dayte (thats a day-date, to the uninitiated) to Franco Manca on Saturday and ordered my pizza with veg INSTEAD OF cheese. Like some sort of absolute lunatic. But needs must, and I knew I’d feel gross if I’d chowed down regardless (alongside wanting to lose weight, I’m actually fairly lactose intolerant, so this healthy overhaul I’m having is actually a blessing in disguise. Thank god for dairy substitutes!).

But having a pizza at the weekend to me doesn’t signify ‘cheating’ or ‘rewarding myself’ for eating clean all week, or all fortnight, up until that point. To me, the reward isn’t the meal itself, it’s the freedom of eating whatever I damn well please. Monday to Friday I focus on giving my body what it needs to walk 30miles, gym four times and survive the working week. At the weekend, I don’t strictly follow my usual eating times, or my usual three meals a day, or my usual breakdown of carbs, protein and fat. If I wake up on a Saturday and I’m not hungry till 1pm, I won’t eat till then. That freedom to relax a little bit is what keeps me going all week, and makes sure I don’t go slowly mad.

And for the record, Franco Manca tastes much better than skinny feels, and it’s much too good for dogs..