It’s Week 4 and with it comes the end of January. Need I emphasise how painstakingly I have counted out the 31 days of Veganuary lentil by lentil? On this cold February afternoon I celebrated the end of a month of discipline by sitting down in Fitzbillies and making two of my best friends watch me inhale a cream tea. I could barely hear the clotted cream clogging my arteries above the rhapsody being sung in my brain.

For some people, a vegan or gluten free or 5:2 diet may truly make them feel amazing. I found myself scrolling through many blogs by such people while I was looking for vegan recipes. I take the authors of those blogs at their word, and believe that their ability to turn a courgette into something resembling pasta really does emotionally and spiritually move them, but I am not one of those people.

When embarking upon Veganuary I was, vainly, hoping that I would shed the ‘my sense of humour is my most attractive feature’ skin which I have worn for so long, and be reborn as a glowing goddess. Sadly this did not come to pass, but did it make me think more carefully about how to properly nourish oneself and consider the ethical value of the food I was consuming? Sure. Would I be tempted to remain vegan any longer? Hell no.

I’m proud of myself. I never thought that I would be able to exercise enough self-control to abstain from all of my favourite foods for a whole month, but here I am. When it comes to desire, I am not at all monkish. I am always disproportionately impressed when I come across people who don’t smoke, don’t stay in toxic relationships, and for whom a few glasses doesn’t inevitably become the whole bottle.

While I am impressed when such people flaunt their self-control, I remain very sceptical of being governed by restraint.

One of the healthiest things I’ve heard recently was from a friend in the pub over the Christmas break. She described how wonderful her Christmas had been, and rather than the obligatory self-deprecating ‘too many mince pies… too much alcohol’ comment, she said she had gained a bit of weight over the holidays and that she thought she looked great (FYI: she always looks gorgeous and has one of my favourite laughs ever). This comment was not striking in itself, but by comparison to the conversations I’m used to having with friends around the subject of indulgence, it stood out.

I’ve become so accustomed to hearing friends – most often, but not exclusively, female – apologising for such behaviour. How long has it been since a brownie has been eaten by a woman who hasn’t first reproved it as a ‘naughty’ treat, I wonder.

Everyone needs indulgence, and it is wrong to assume that any deviance from a totalising notion of ‘clean living’ spells disaster. When any seemingly positive lifestyle choice based on abstinence turns into self-flagellation as soon as it is broken, the entire premise of ‘health’ is shaken. When we think about wellbeing we need to think about pleasure as much as we think about balance, and this extends far beyond one’s diet.

Pleasure in itself is both specific and unique. What’s more, it’s a complex concept - Cindies capitalises on our so-called ‘guilty pleasures’ every week. We act against ‘our better judgement’ constantly. But ignoring those better judgements every so often incites just enough reckless behaviour to satisfy our need for hedonism. Little and often, deviance should be a staple of everyone’s diet.

Placing such restrictions on your behaviour really limits the creativity with which one can spectacularly fuck up one’s own life. Truthfully, we all revel in the chaos that we create for ourselves. Who hasn’t been tempted by the lure of Dangerspoons despite being fully aware that The Regal on a Friday exposes the dark recesses of the human condition? And who hasn’t achieved the magic proportion of drunkenness to proximity and jumped back into bed with an ex? To describe this behaviour as masochism would be too grandiose but, to use a tired cliché, sometimes doing the wrong thing just feels so right. While we may not have learned much we didn’t already know from these experiences, they seem imperative in the moment, and certainly keep us entertained (or at least occupied) in the aftermath. I would go as far as to say that these fuck-ups are endearing.

The waves of ‘clean-eaters’ who gaily post picture after picture of themselves gazing lovingly at quinoa salads or modelling a spray tan and a full face of make up in the gym are doing so to reap likes. In reality, no such judgment needs to factor. Because of this obsession with having our lifestyles affirmed over social media, we may feel as though we can only enjoy things that would receive approval from our followers. Balls to that.

Too often do we let our virtues triumph over our vices, not recognising that the two are far closer than they may seem. Savour illicitness - I can say with some authority that incongruity tastes far sweeter than Alpro Soya. You can have your cake, and eat it too.