I once tried clean eating. The first sensation of swallowing a plateful of fresh, grated organic beetroot sprinkled with chia seeds, and feeling it hit the bloodstream, was exquisitely intoxicating.

I imagined I could feel it delivering a direct hit of iron and other antioxidants, not to mention fibre and minerals, and was smitten. Soon I was into juicing organic carrots and mixing in with fresh ginger for breakfast.

I stopped eating bread, choosing instead rice cakes; and I substituted organic coconut oil for butter, forcing myself to stop all milk and ice-cream. Honeycomb became the new chocolate. I forked out a fortune on organic nuts and seeds, and spent a lot – and I mean a lot – of my time planning what I was going to eat each day.

That was OK because as a newly-fledged freelance working from home, I wasn’t tied to any established daytime eating routines – and I was eating alone.

I felt fantastic. So fantastic that I even started to think about giving up coffee (too many toxins) even though I’d been happily addicted to it for years. Meat, too, began to become psychologically problematic for me as I imagined it lingering in my system too long and “putrefying” in my gut (as one evanglistic clean eater delicately put it to me).

The trouble was, I was becoming a bit self-obsessed. Others in my life weren’t interested. Instead of listening to their objections, I felt concerned for their health. How could they afford not to buy into my clean eating regime? I became detached from their way of thinking. The very idea of a crispy rasher of bacon, something I’d always loved, was anathema. It felt the opposite of clean: it felt dirty.

I say “was” because thankfully I’m over it. More or less. I think.

Frankly, “conscious eating”, as it’s also called, is blooming hard work. It takes a lot of time and commitment (not to mention cash) to adhere to its ethos of maintaining the digestive system in a mild alkaline state by consuming only fresh, organic, raw, locally sourced vegetable and fruit-based meals and snacks, home-grown and home-made if possible, in order to maximise their nutrient-enzyme-vitamin hit. (I’m deliberately cramming all that into one sentence in order to maximise the hassle it involves.) You’re supposed to eat lentils or other pulses instead of meat, as they go through the system faster (even though they are largely imported). If you have to eat meat, we should make it from high-welfare locally-reared animals.

The trick is to avoid inflammation, which the clean eating movement says is caused by sugar, dairy and gluten. Too much sugar, we’re told, can cause cancer tumours because it makes our systems acidic. Dairy is a no-no since it’s mucous-forming and also acidic, and can contain hormones and antibiotics from cattle. Ice-cream, being a double hit of both offenders, should be replaced with fruit and nut-based desserts sprinkled with raw cacao powder. All animal products create acidity; cholesterol only comes from food from animals.

And here’s the big problem with clean eating: with its focus on cleansing and detoxing, it implies that all other ways of eating are unclean. Gwyneth Paltrow’s massively popular goop.com aspirational lifestyle blog, for example, raves about the benefits of “getting clean”, doing “three-week-long clean detox programs” and “resetting your body’s natural balance” and it does sound transformational.

I’m not in any way suggesting that we don’t begin to look after ourselves by eating better (how could I, when we’re in the grip of a obesity-related health crisis?) but for some people, it can also be dangerously addictive.

To paraphrase the supermodel Kate Moss, nothing tastes as good as clean feels. Believing you’re putting something dirty into your body, just because it’s cooked or cured or processed in any way, can cause psychological damage. Who’s to say they won’t feel the need to purge and punish themselves for stepping out of line and giving into their craving for sugar or sausage rolls?

That’s the jist of what the celebrity cook Nigella Lawson, whose mother had an eating disorder and whose new cookbook is about healthy eating, said last week. She believes clean eating can be followed by people as a way of hiding an eating disorder or a great sense of unhappiness with their own body.

A lively discussion on Newsnight followed, in which the food critic Jay Rayner jousted with Alexandra Dudley of Punch Foods, a company that produces organic, dairy and gluten-free snacks and seeds.

Among other things, they discussed the merits or otherwise of raw walnut and organic dehydrated courgette pizza base. She admitted that “clean” has become an excuse for masking eating disorders, and as a result has removed the words from her company’s publicity. He said clean eating was an example of the “pathologising” of our diet, where all processed food is seen as evil. If he eats “dirty”, he simply goes down the gym to make amends.

Quite right too. I’m glad I saw the light. Although I will stick to my current obsession of hot yoga. The detox is amazing.

@catedvinewriter