Tea Pigs

Today I spent two hours with my new weight loss coach. Yes.  (Last week I weighed myself  on a Babyliss bionic scales and the news was bad). Her name is Katrina Brunsden and she is a leggy hot yoga teacher who was once a speccy frump and weighed 60lbs more than she does today.  She teaches yoga at the Skyros Centre, where we met last summer. She goes under the pseudonymn fatgirltrim.

We met at Fresh and Wild, Brewer Street. We ate lunch and talked a lot about feeding the blood and balancing the body etc, about addictions, about mine to coffee, about my inability to speak in the morning or know who I am or what to do with myself after waking.  Coffee. That’s the problem. I am dehydrated.

Then Katrina took me shopping. We bought real dried apricots (brown, not dyed orange), spelt bread and crackers, nut butter, amino acids, pumpkin seeds and some seaweed to put in my new green juices.  Also some Tea Pigs.

Tea Pigs are the finest herbal teas on the market. Each bag is like  a little silken bag-let. (I know my ex-partner, the tea addict, Ian Marchant is reading this and will be shouting at his screen in horror – which is partly why I am writing this post). Tee hee. Ian. Log off – this gets worse.

The Tea Pigs I bought were Roibosh – caffeine free tea bags. I am a caffeine addict. I currently imbibe at least eight cups of coffee a day – so I was very skeptical about the Tea Pigs as a substitute.

I am pleased to report that they are fucking great. Tea which pongs of leaf, of zing.  Tea which makes the nostrils quiver. Tea which makes me feel like I could convert from my life of sin.

I have already been drinking less coffee – in the last few hours. Being addicted to coffee sounds kind of writerly and sexy.

Being addicted to Tea Pigs?


~ by moniqueroffey on February 12, 2009.

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