Eat Type Live

Lucy Carey, Disordered Eating Dietitian

  • Laughter is no joke

    Laughter is no joke

    It was weekly ritual. The giant bucket of popcorn was balanced precariously between the cinema seats. Even with my brother’s monster appetite there was no way we’d make more than a small dent in it, but that wasn’t the point. It was time to relax. Sweat beads slipped down the shiny glass beer bottles in… Read more

  • Supersized fruit and vege

    Supersized fruit and vege

    My thumb flicked the phone screen to scroll the shopping list. Hmm. We already had almost all of the vegetables and fruit that we needed at home so the only produce item we needed today was some more fruit, to ensure we wouldn’t run out before our next shop. The corners of my mouth screwed… Read more

  • Go to sleep

    Go to sleep

    A while back, I conducted a little experiment on myself. For three nights I went to sleep at the same time as my preschooler – 7.30pm. I wanted to see how I would feel if I slept more, so I just closed my eyes and drifted off a couple hours earlier than I usually would… Read more

  • In defence of milk

    In defence of milk

    “Milk please,” my preschooler directed politely. “In my red cup, with a straw,” he added with a smile. I shook the bottle of organic, non-homogenized milk, so the cream would disperse from it’s lump at the top of the bottle, then I poured it into the specified red cup. He slurped it up happily, delighting… Read more

  • Cinema therapy – it’s a thing

    Cinema therapy – it’s a thing

    My partner says that I sometimes have a tendancy to get down about the world’s problems. Sadly, it’s true. It’s possible that yesterday I burst into tears while cooking dinner because of “the state of the world”. After dinner, I parked up outside the gym to wait for my booked session to begin, and it… Read more

  • Lockdown getting you down? Get cooking!

    Lockdown getting you down? Get cooking!

    I smoothed the homemade berry pie filling over the top of the New York cheesecake I had made. My chef’s knife slid carefully through the berries, dragging streaks of purple and read over the creamy lemony middle, and then crunched through the biscuit crust. I gently tugged the slice free from its cake prison, tipped… Read more