Wanna go for brunch?

Sitting with my double-shot-iced-matcha-almond-milk-latte in the men’s shoe department of Selfridges. Why? Because the men’s floor boasts the best seating. While seats in the woman’s departments are often quite high art, low comfort. The ones here are plush, spacious, and ergonomically designed to cradle a peachy derrière. It’s quiet, and the staff behind me have drifted into a conversation about their recent drug escapades. Apparently, acid is passé.

It’s been a while since I last wrote! That usually happens for one of two reasons: either I’m drowning in depression or I’m ridiculously busy. On this rare occasion, I’m pleased to say it’s the latter! My surprisingly positive start to 2025 has even more surprisingly maintained its brilliance! —For the most part.

I’ve been making my way through London’s best brunch cafés, one loaded avocado sourdough at a time! Honestly, one of the biggest milestones of ‘25 so far is just how much 2pm avo toast and iced matcha I’m consuming. Eating before 5pm has always been an unusual, alien and honestly, quite terrorising concept to me. And yet, here I am, challenging my long-engrained fears, gently unraveling my eating disorder norms.

I realise, on paper, going out for brunch almost every day might sound like the peak of frivolity, but for me, this is monumental. Totally achievement worthy! Just three months ago, I wasn’t even eating lunch—I was surviving almost exclusively on Huel actually lol. The eating disorder is a strange, curious, ever evolving thing! I don’t think the disordered eating part ever entirely goes away. It’s a deluded philosophy, as much as it is a collection of rituals. But during my recovery and healing process I’m gradually learning how to eat like a “normal person”. It’s tenuous at times, but all very exciting!

I haven’t been “medically underweight” in a year or so, and while my eating disorder never reaches a catastrophic point anymore, it does shape-shift. But this new form? I’m actually enjoying it. Brunch really is the best meal of the day—especially when you’re no longer afraid to eat bread (!!!).

The hardest part of eating more, particularly when your baseline diet has been liquid or meticulously portioned, is the sheer awareness of the food in your body. I hate feeling anything internally (unless it’s a nice penis lol). I have this tendency to associate normal bodily sensations with impending doom. Heartbeat? Palpitations? Panic attack. Stomach movement? Nausea? Vomiting. You get the idea. My brain is a well-oiled catastrophising machine. So feeling full—physically sensing the stretch of my stomach, deeply unsettles me. The hyper vigilant part of my brain doesn’t like beieng aware of my, usually-so-flat-it’s-concave, stomach. As, if I feel hyper aware of my stomach, then I just assume everyone else is hyper aware of my stomach too! Which is an abominable thought.

But credit where it’s due: I am pushing myself. As these new normals take root, they can only get stronger. Sure, there are still days when I retreat to liquid food, and that’s okay. Life is about balance. And for all my quirks, I’m surprisingly skilled at maintaining equilibrium when it comes to food—finding structure in the chaos and making it work as I go.

Now that puberty has wrapped up its dramatic tenure, I feel a lot more at home in my body. During those years, everything was in flux—hormones wreaking havoc, shape shifting daily, my perception of self warping along with it. I genuinely believe most people experience at least some degree of body dysmorphia in adolescence thanks to puberty. But now? My body has stopped playing tricks on me. I’ve learned how it operates—its rhythms, its limits. I know what I can "get away with" and what I can’t, both in terms of physical comfort and mental turmoil.

Deep down, I know I can eat freely without some catastrophic consequence, but I also recognise where my personal thresholds lie. If I could tell my teenage self one thing; it does get better. Or at the very least, it changes. And honestly, change is the best we can hope for sometimes.

With all the mental chaos I juggle, I can never promise things are always getting better, but they are always shifting —usually in the right direction! Like tectonic plates, constantly rearranging, carving out new spaces, letting the light in. Nothing stays the same forever. That thought can be daunting, sure—but it’s also wildly comforting to me. Change means possibility. It means refinement, progression, second chances. Perfection isn’t something you arrive at; it’s something you edge closer to through trial and error, moments of clarity and missteps alike!

The only constant at play in life is change—so why not embrace it with an open mind. Who knows what may happen?!

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Here is a small compilation of some vegan brunches!!