Jan
19th
Mon
19th
Now that same dessert menu will become a dossier of sobering statistics. It’ll still be accompanied by descriptions of moist sponge enrobed in an oozing burqa of dark chocolate sauce, but no amount of unctuous wordplay can distract from those cold, hard numbers. Five hundred calories? The waiter might as well tip a jug of freezing water directly into your laps. Perhaps if it was also accompanied by a list of physical activities you’d have to undertake in order to burn off all that fat and sugar, the balance would be redressed. A scoop of vanilla ice cream? Ten minutes of kissing in a shop doorway. Caramel cookie surprise? That’ll be accompanied by a pornographic instructional line-drawing complete with arrows pointing out precisely what you’ll have to put where, and how firmly and repeatedly you’ll have to repeat the action. And so on.
