Feed me, starve me, love me.
Food.
When you hear or see this word what emotion is evoked?
Do you think “fuel”, and remind yourself only two more hours until lunch, and how important your hearty, fiber, protein filled lunch will be to your evening run?
Does it bring you back to this weekend when you enjoyed a delicious steak and potato meal followed by a beer in celebration of a new job?
Are you tempted to run to your fridge and finish off last nights leftovers? Or the remainder of the half-gallon of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream?
Does it taunt you? When you see this word does it make you sad? Does it remind you that you are a failure? That no one will love you if you can’t lose these last 20 lbs?
Food has given us some of our best memoirs, warmest emotions and greatest satisfaction (our grandmothers fresh baked cookies, our mother’s apple pie or the filet mignon we had after a college graduation, you know, the last meal that mother and father would ever be forced to play nice together, remember?).
Food has robbed of us our happiness, tormented us, and encouraged us to abuse our bodies ( standing at the scale, telling ourselves if we eat any more we will have to throw up or restrict for 5 more days).
How is one word able to give us so much joy in our lives?
And how does the word play such an important role in robbing of us our lives?
When an ice cream is a memory, of childhood gone right or gone wrong how do we say yes or no to it, without feelings of shame, hurt, or sadness. How do we make it just what it is. Ice cream. Not abuse, not lack of love, not something to fill a void.
When will you realize food does not fill you with love? And despite what you have learned, you are not unlovable because you are filled with food?
When will food just mean food?
About kfrayz
I feel like I have a pretty healthy relationship with food but I have a 3-year-old which keeps mealtimes interesting.
When will food just be food? When we're no longer humans (read McKnight's story for a taste of that!). Everything we do, see, hear, touch has memories, both good and bad. But {we're all} living proof that those memories can be re-purposed and, often, put to good use.
p.s. Just think of how much Henri's going to hate jelly beans when he grows up. Bwah-hah-ha-ha.
You've made me rethink food. Well said.
Bookmarked – will return within in a few days to evaluate rest threads.