The diet detox


So, I’m on a detox from diets. The 5:2? The Atkins? The Zone? The South Beach? All banished from our household. I promised myself I wouldn’t even look at another apple and the Nutribullet has completely shut up shop – unless, of course, it’s blending something riddled with MSG.
Instead of a life chewing on the cud/kale like a bovid animal, we’ve decided to fall dramatically off the wagon. The wagon is currently a dot on the horizon and we’re writhing around in a rainbow spectrum of Double Deckers, Fruit Pastels and Rolos. Want the last Rolo? Have the first, second and third; we went multi-pack.
But we would not have ventured down such a sugar-paved path had it not been for the following alternative diets that require nothing other than a bit of nouse and ability to manoeuvre your derriere. Cue the diets of all diets; the diets that will ensure you look good 24-7 without raising a finger/ leg/ eyebrow.

The contrast diet.

This relies on all your friends and family expanding at the same rate as you. Always keep a pack of Monster Munch handy and offer up at any or every occasion. That guy on The Tube who always commutes at the same time as you? Don’t let him slip through the net. For skinnier members, go large with a pack of pork scratchings. You will look benevolent, while retaining your silhouette (in comparison to Aunty Janet, who has a penchant for a porky bite).

The proximity diet.

Noone, and I repeat, noone looks good in that holiday snap where you’re in the sea, taken from the beach. Never allow anyone more than 30 cm away from you at all times. The wrist is your friend. The wrist will never bloat and the wrist will always retain a sense of dignity when all else goes pear-shaped. Waft those carpometacarpal joints (or ankle – an equal bony stalwart) towards anyone with a camera. Draw attention to those bony comrades with accoutrements (a bangle? A tattoo? A ‘I heart Cream Eggs’ transfer?) Redefining #thinspiration one wrist at a time.

The distraction diet.

Of all the diets, this is the easiest. If you fall off the bandwagon (and then get run over as it reverses) with the other two, then this is your dietary soul mate. It revolves around a bold – we’re talking a My Little Pony-inspired headpiece/ flower crown – accessory and a ‘go hard, or go home’ mentality to draw attention away from the Twix-infused bingo wings. Think Big Bird from Sesame Street and consider taking a tea leaf (with accompanying pack of Digestives) out of Cruella de Ville’s book in terms of styling it out. I do love a disco pant. Nothing says, ‘Life’s great! Pass me the Jaffa’s! Put on the choons!’ than psychedelic Spandex against a backdrop of Queen’s Fat Bottomed Girls.

Anna Whitehouse

Founder of Mother Pukka, Anna Whitehouse likes super hero cape-making classes and dislikes the naming of celebrity couples (TomKat, Brange etc.) She tries (and often fails) to parent the shit out of life.



Turns out I’m not an afternoon person either.


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