I can’t remember exactly how many years I went without pizza. Five or something stupid like that. Pizza has been a favourite food of mine since I was old enough to eat solids, and looking back to the thin years, I shake my head in disbelief. Back then, I refused to touch a pizza – even if it was tightly wrapped in plastic and hidden in a cardboard box – for fear of being infected with fat and calories. Nowadays, I’ll happily eat a whole Dr Oetker pizza to myself, and not feel the need to spend an hour in the bathroom, with my head down the toilets, bringing it all back up again, slimy mouthful after slimy mouthful.
Nowadays, I’ll even eat something else with the pizza. The other night it was ribs. If you would have told me, ten years ago, that one day I would be devouring pizza and ribs at the same meal, I would have screamed in your face, then laughed hysterically at how ludicrous the idea was. How times change, and how fortunate I am to be able to sit down at a table and eat something dense with deliciousness and not hate myself for doing so.