Feeling full is your body’s way of saying it has enough nutrients to function properly. The lower the nutritional value of what you eat, the more you have to consume to reach that point.
One of the absurdities of modern life is the explosion in consumption of comestible stuff — not food that nourishes, but edible waste products that trick your body into thinking it’s ready for another day in the fields. Then one morning, you wake up and need a crane to get out of bed.
“It’s genetic,” they say. “I’m just big-boned. It’s winter, guvnor — we need a buffer against the cold.”
No. It’s the government‑approved food you’ve been conditioned to buy. The same psychological predators who fuel social media addiction and steer your choices for profit also drive the adoption of unhealthy diets.
When a quarter of the population is carrying the equivalent of two young children on each buttock, lawmakers — comfortably in the pockets of the comestible‑stuff industry — pretend to fix the problem with empty legislation.
They force schools to change the choice of desserts, so the bean-counting caterers enter into the spirit of "it's to keep the kids safe" and edit the menu from one large doughnut to two small ones. The councils are forced to introduce more mental health counseling facilities for obese adolescents. To fund the new services, they cut back on mental health counseling for adults, abandon after-school sports activities and close down more recreational parks.
Similar absurdities run through the #OlgaSejeHansen thrillers, though Peter Malone narrates them far more hilariously than I ever could.