Addictive Eaters Anonymous
FINDING THE ANSWER
I have lived in New Zealand for the last twelve years, after being born and raised in Somerset, England. My parents ran a playgroup in our house for much of my childhood and I made close friends there, but I still felt isolated and different to everyone else.
I always loved food. We were able to help ourselves from the cupboards at home when I was young, with no restrictions. I believe a normal eater would just eat until they were full, but I could not stop. I put extra food in Mum's shopping basket and would gorge on leftovers at night with my friends. My friend’s dad owned a pub and when the half-eaten plates came back, I would pick chips off them, chatting as I did so, to my friends' astonished faces.
From as far back as I can remember, I felt irritated and impatient with people. I would interrupt and correct the teachers at school and have furious rows with my family, then later tell them I loved them. I lived in a fantasy world. My favourite times at school would be writing stories and acting. My emotions were a rollercoaster, up and down. Food made me feel better, soothing all the anxiety. I never realised how dependent I was on food, until it got much worse.
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Neighbourhood Challenge: Who Can Crack This One? ⛓️💥❔
What has a head but no brain?
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Poll: Are Kiwis allergic to “exuberance”? 🥝
In The Post’s opinion piece on the developments set to open across Aotearoa in 2026, John Coop suggests that, as a nation, we’re “allergic to exuberance.”
We want to know: Are we really allergic to showing our excitement?
Is it time to lean into a more optimistic view of the place we call home? As big projects take shape and new opportunities emerge, perhaps it’s worth asking whether a little more confidence (and enthusiasm!) could do us some good.
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41.1% Yes
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33.5% Maybe?
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25.4% No
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