There are a couple of reasons that people often exclaim that their favourite part about Christmas is the food. The first one is, obviously, because the food is so ace. Eating a tube of Pringles to yourself isn’t just common, but encouraged, there’s choccy galore, and don’t get me started on the glory that is bread sauce. The second—and in my eyes—the most probable reason is that most of the language about dieting, health and restrictions around food is thrown out of the window for the festive season. Having a lunch that is only cold pigs in blankets and leftover cheeses? Go for it! Want to start the day with a thimble of orange juice and a full glass of Prosecco? Let me join you!
At least, this was how my household held itself growing up, although it must be said, my mam was very strict about nobody eating a thing until the clock chimed on the 25th of December. To open a tub of Celebrations before Christmas Day had officially started was at one’s own risk. Still, even that was more a part of the fun of the season than anything related to shaming someone stuffing their face. I always cherished the precious days between Xmas and New Year’s Day as a safe haven from diet language and a time to do what I truly adore most in the world—indulge.
