Stealth health

Do you find yourself glazing over when the words trans-fat, omega or GM creep in to a discussion? 
Do I really understand all of this???
Umm, no. 
Why is healthy eating full of options that all seem so scientific? 
What ever happened to water, fruit, vegetables, meat and potatoes? 

I feel robbed of the simple life.
 

Tracy Emin

I know, I know, I know. 
It's easy, right? 
Proteins beat Carbohydrate. Carbohydrate beats Fats. Good Fats beat Bad Fats. 
And so on. 
Like paper scissors stone for our budding lab-loungers. 
But for me? My school actually asked me not to take Chemistry and Physics GCSE. 
It's not my thing. Too much information, and I switch off zzzz...
 

This, however, doesn't mean that I don't want to be a goddess of health. 
I try! I've got  a cupboard in my kitchen full of tinctures, supplements, vitamins. 
It's all a bit much. 
I tend to just stick to my Multi-vitamin and hope for the best.
 

Whenever I go into a health food shop (which, actually, is fairly frequent - I like the smell of shops like that. Perhaps in a vain attempt to breathe in health), I am overwhelmed by the hundreds of lentils, pulses, organic, sugar-free, dairy-free, non-carb, non-taste... 

This is when I break out in to a gentle sweat. 

Surely I can't eat, let alone afford, all of these things! 

I make a bee-line for the hempseed 9-bars, pay, and run.

 

Wouldn't it be nice and helpful to know a bit about a few things that make for a healthy diet? Along with a comprehensible explanation why?

 

Then check out gorgeous Tomm's blog: http://thehealthfoodcompanion.blogspot.com

For the science dunces like me, whom far prefer healthy eating this way:

 

Spa days

I am one lucky lady. Friday was a mega day. I was treated by my boyfriend to an afternoon of luxury at the Agua Spa in the Sanderson Hotel. 

A full-body massage & Eve lom facial later, and I feel sublime. 

Both treatments evocatively saunter towards the 'no pain no gain' side of beauty, but who cares when the results are this good. 

I feel like a new-born lamb.



Damien Hirst, Away From The Flock (1995)

Ceiling to floor white curtains create the different areas - I soon get over the overwhelming desire to pick up pace and flail like a nymph through this ethereal maze of dreams a la Labyrinth, but instead settle down in my white chaise longue for a post-pummel rest. 

Silence wafts through this curtained land. None of us bold enough to utter a sound.

 

Boyfriend and I (he has come along for the ride) float towards the steam room, then recline in our very own cubby hole with TV. We opt for some female wrestling. And the cheese board.

 

On our way out the hotel bar is buzzing. Oh, and if you decide to treat yourself here, take the lift. The interior is, basically, space. Yes. Space. In 3D. A 3D space lift. My inner-child: released. Home we go.

www.sandersonlondon.com