Beat the hunger, crush the cravings, fight the fat, burn
those calories. It’s the diet culture that spurs up the most ridiculous motivational
mottos. Its food and I, our love-hate relationship only makes our connection
stronger or weaker. There are endless possibilities with food, with eating, with baking,
with cooking, with decorating and even with throwing. But what happens when the
same amazing foods become the reason for your misery, your malnourishment, and
your mourning days?
Cake doesn’t make a person fat, cookies don’t cause stress,
and ice cream isn’t unsafe or complicated. It was a decision I made, and the
decision only led to a complicated, stressful, and unsafe place. People think
the person who denies the cake is the one who has discipline. But really, that
isn’t the person who is disciplined. Rather, it is the person who has lost
touch with joy. That person was me. You can eat the cookie, skip the cookie or
gobble up the entire box. I gobbled it up and gave it all back. I love cake, I love
cookies, I love chocolate, and I love ice cream. I don’t like pills, I don’t
like injections, and I don’t like lying in a hospital bed counting the vanilla colored
tiles on the ceiling. The biggest secret of my life and the only one to blame
is food. But the only one who saved my life was food, as well.
Make sure your plate is colorful
they said. Be sure to eat veggies and fruits only she said. Don’t eat the
chips, don’t take a bite of that burger, and oh honey you might as well take my
salad she sighed. How many different voices there were, restricting me from the
food I was eating. I fell like chocolate fudge into the restrictions
surrounding the food I eat. I wasn't trying to fight with my body, but it
happened anyways. It was like a constant battle between food and I. That sounds
pretty funny, but it’s true. I was battling food. I was protecting myself from
food. It’s always been a war; the struggle to find something wholesome without
the lethal regrets triggering my binges has always been difficult. I’d love to
eat those 160 calorie cookies, and maybe even that 310 calorie bar cake, and
definitely the 180 calorie cupcake. However, it’s just not fun to step back into
the battlefield. Food was like a weapon against me, and food always won.
Intuitive eating demands that we trust our bodies. But I never
learned to trust my body, I learned to trust the food, and of course it’s
strange, but I loved it. It was only when I actually became what I ate, a big
pile of garbage. As I hear my parent’s voices in my head, I hear everyone’s
laughter in my head, and I hear the constant reminder about my secret. But regardless
of what I hear in my mind, I love food. I’ll continue my relationship with
food. I’ll eat the pizza, even with the million regrets. I’ll devour the triple
chocolate mousse bar cake from Stew Leonard’s, even with my mother saying “no.”
I’ll gladly take a second thin mint from the Girl Scout cookie box, even though
it’s 170 calories. And only because the reality of the food I eat is that I’m
not actually eating.
