Not only is diet a four letter word, but Darwin was a lying bast*rd
Why...
Do foods I like to eat mean I have to diet? My wife has read me the riot act after indulging in too much Christmas pudding and Port. This is where I have a disagreement with Charles Darwin whilst floating around the Pacific in HMS Beagle. He had his Eureka! moment looking at finches in the Galapagos and noticing different beaks for different foods on different islands. “Aha,” he cried. “We evolve with our surroundings; especially with regards to eating specific foods.” If, as a species, our diet evolves with our surroundings, surely the fact that I prefer the taste of a Jelly Baby to that of a raw carrot means my body, via evolution, adapts to the candy? But no. My body apparently directly challenges my taste buds. “Jelly baby, No. Carrot, Yes.” On the other hand if my eating habits were purely hereditary rather than evolutionary surely I would be turning up my nose at a fillet steak or coq au vin whilst longing for a Tyrannosaurus Rex cutlet or Mammoth Osso Buco ? I prefer to think that evolution will catch up. Mac and cheese followed by peach cobbler and ice cream will hopefully do me or at least future generations, far more good than artichoke hearts and a tofu sausage. Mother Nature implants desire into us for our own good. Humans are sex mad to keep up procreation. Therefore, there must be a method behind me salivating at the smell of frying bacon or going weak at the knees at the sight of a chocolate eclair!
