Trigger Warning for discussion of my own personal food issues. If you know me or would simply rather not know about my food issues, I ask that you please come back on another day. Thank you so much! =0)

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So, y’all pretty much know by now that I own and run my own cafe. It’s a one-woman show. No big. The thing is, I’ve been struggling lately with eating during the day at all. I will eat something for breakfast, usually without issue. But then it’s suddenly 11:30 or 12 or OH NOES!!! It’s 1:30! And I haven’t had lunch and just thinking about it makes me so uninterested. Like, blegh.

I am wondering if it’s just stress (this current food issue has come and gone a few times since opening the cafe), but I can’t get rid of the stress of owning my own business. I’ve tried. I’ve also tried pretending that everything is okay. That lasted two weeks. I get home and I am hungry and want dinner and so my husband and I usually eat dinner at 6pm. Early for most people, but perfect for us. We get up at 6. I’ve never had an eating disorder (that I know of) and have generally had a healthy relationship with food. It bothers me though. Part of me thinks it’s just that I’m bored with the food I have here and so I’d for some reason rather go without. I usually end up eating a sesame seed bagel with whipped cream cheese and some carrot sticks because it’s reliably bland, not too acidic, easy to prepare and basically free because of my profit margin on those things. I get a general feeling of satiety, but not satisfaction, ya know?

I was doing so well with my intuitive eating and I don’t know, life happened?

Monday afternoon I was suddenly struck by a serious hunger pang (hadn’t had on of those in awhile) and looked at the time and it was 2pm. I actually considered not eating anything. Ugh! WTF?! This isn’t me! Why am I doing this to myself? Is it as simple as not being interested in what is on offer? Actually, nothing I eat excites me anymore. Why? I love food! I love cooking and baking and watching people on t.v. talk about or make it. So, what gives?

It has absolutely nothing to do with my weight or size or shape. Please understand/respect that. Also, no chance of pregnancy, so please do not ask. And for those about to suggest bringing my own lunch, I have no personal income, nor a microwave. This leaves my lunch options minimal at best. Maybe I’m still depressed. That’s actually more likely than I will ever let on, come to think of it. Ugh!

Do you have any suggestions? Do you have a similar food issue? Feel free to share anything TMI in comments. Thanks!

It can be difficult to deal with your own food issues when you’re in a long-term and committed relationship. Even when you think you’ve got all of your shit nicely packed away or cared for something can just pop up out of nowhere. This is what happened to me last weekend in the middle of that great big funk I was in. While in the moment I couldn’t, for some reason, speak up for myself or explain how I felt or anything at all. It was a bizarre moment for me and undoubtedly, my husband. Allow me to explain…

I had gotten home from work, it was a Saturday and so I got home around 3:30 pm. We had plans that night to attend the opening gala for our BFFs play. I knew said galas tend to run very late and since we’re early birds I had wanted to take a nap. So I did, sorta. Well, I had the best intentions. I stripped down to my socks (it was super cold) and snuggled down into bed with our down comforter and all. The cat didn’t mind the extra body on the bed, more warmth for all! Only I didn’t sleep a wink! I just laid there, hoping the husband would come in and “wake me up” (if you know what I mean, he-he), tightly wound in the blankets trying to keep warm and relax. Well, I was warm. Ha! I found myself getting worked up and tense over nothing at all. Time was passing, but I felt lost for some reason. I still don’t know what that was all about, but I digress.

I heard the phone ring and a brief one-sided conversation about timing and transportation to the play. I figured this meant it was almost time to leave. I get up and put on fresh under garments. I look at the clock and, “Holy shit! We have twenty minutes to get ready, eat dinner and leave! But suddenly I was in full panic mode! I couldn’t figure out what to wear! I had intended to get up from my nap an hour before we had to go and do myself up nice and proper. So my head was not ready for the stress of this moment. And I fucking felt it! Whoa! I grabbed tops and pants and tights and dresses and jackets and jeans and shoes…it was all a mish-mash! I couldn’t decide on anything! I ran out into the living room in my undies and bra and my husband looked astonished. He was putting our dinner plates on our dining room table! He had just brought the table in from our balcony after many months. We had it in the dining room when we first moved in last year, but only ate there once. I was startled by it’s presence and how the food was just THERE.

I tried to explain that I was panicking and couldn’t make a decision or choice to save my life. He didn’t seem to understand my urgency or need and so I ran back to the bedroom. I finally threw something together that was neither too formal nor too casual. I wasn’t satisfied, but it would do. I then went back out to the dining room and sat down. I looked at the food on my plate. I picked up my fork and poked at each item. My appetite was gone. I should have been so hungry! I ate my green beans and most of my potatoes, but I couldn’t deal with the turkey meat loaf. Just smelling it turned up my anxiety. Looking at it made it worse. I took a very small bite. My heart sank. Something was up with me but I couldn’t grasp or point to what it was. What’s worse is that I had an immediate instinct to run, to get the fuck away from that food and that table right away. I couldn’t speak. I just ate what I could and hoped that time would run out and we’d have to leave anyway. My husband realized I wasn’t touching the turkey and so he said, “You don’t have to eat everything on your plate or anything.” I knew this, yet hearing it from him gave me some relief. And then we did have to go in a rush.

Later, as I was thinking back on that awful moment, I realized that it was a bunch of things that killed my appetite. For one thing, I grew up in a house without a dining room or dining table. We ate in the living room in front of the television. On Sundays we would go to my grandma’s for dinner, but everyone would be talking or she’d have the radio or t.v. on or something. When I sat down to have dinner that night, I didn’t know what we were having. The light above our dining table is unforgivably bright. I felt like I was under a spotlight. And suddenly being faced with eating at a table instead of on the couch all in silence? It made my skin crawl! It wasn’t until a few nights later when he again served dinner at the table that I said I couldn’t handle the silence. I do have a problem with silence in general so he wasn’t shocked or anything. But the light! OH that light!!! He tried to adjust it but no dice.

So that is that and I eat my dinner on the couch in front of the television as I have most of my life. Even when I didn’t watch television for a year, I had one and would watch the same movie over and over and over. I have always had a hard time with silence. Nothing new there, but specifically? Silence + eating = Anxiety!!! I can’t explain why. And I did go through an intense period in my teens where I couldn’t eat in front of people. So the combo of it all, all at once, wow…really freaked me out!

What is my point in telling you this? Well, that sometimes we can’t always speak up for ourselves even when it seems like a dire situation. We’re all human. We all have things that can be triggering. Respecting those things, especially when in a relationship, is very important. I don’t think that my husband did anything wrong or anything. He didn’t know. I didn’t even know! It was just so sudden and well, shit happens, right? Even after all of these years actively participating in Fat Acceptance and all, well, you just never know what will come up! And it’s completely okay! I don’t often talk about my own food issues. I think that is mostly because I haven’t addressed them myself. So I will begin to share with you all and hopefully we can support each other.

Thanks,
<3
S

Last night while grocery shopping (I know, that never happens), I was looking at some stuff in the deli case when this woman behind me had what appeared to be a breakthrough of some sort. I say this because she looked as though she left reality/her body for a moment. I heard behind me a great inhalation and gasp. This made me turn around for fear I might be in danger of some sort. Then she exclaimed, “Oh my god! I can’t believe it!” as she grabbed a package of sausage from it’s hook with both hands and held it to her bosom. “From my childhood!” she tried to explain desperately, seeming in disbelief herself as she tried to make her shopping companion understand as she herself seemed nearly unable to grasp the sudden impact this finding had. She stood there a bit just holding and staring at this sausage in it’s vacuum sealed package. The kind that is a single link but shaped like an open-ended teardrop.

This encounter had an effect on me. “Certainly I’ve felt that way about something before,” I thought to myself. She just seemed so happy! As though that sausage was some sort of missing link in a wonderful chain of memories and this link being what would finally drive her to pure happiness forever and ever, infinity! As I grow older, every day, little snippets of childhood memories start to come together or they don’t. I find that I can remember things quite vividly now that I couldn’t recall at all just a few years ago. Things from my childhood do certainly bring me to a temporary state of bliss. Sadly, as a kid who grew up during the 80’s, most  of those things are being modernized and re-sold to a new generation of kids who will never know or see their original form.

Food is such a comforting thing sometimes. When you’re a poor kid? It’s even more so. I certainly remember eating almost that same sausage as a “treat” for dinner as a kid. I remember getting some change together with my childhood best friend Riana, saddling up on our bikes and heading to the 7-11 for a spree of Jolly Ranchers, Now And Laters and sometimes taffy or soda. We were always able to stretch our quarters and dimes. Often she and I would hit up Manor Market for a big bar of taffy and a matching soda (for $1, no kidding), I’d always get strawberry, she always grape. We would head back to her house and bedroom with our spoils and laugh and enjoy our treats. We would giggle as the taffy would sort of lean over while resting against our soda cans. We’d pretend that the taffy wanted some soda, too! We made up stories and names for them. Then we’d play with our Strawberry Shortcake dolls and giggle some more.

When a friend mentioned getting a writing assignment for my hometown and the YMCA there I immediately said, “The one by Palm Park, right?” he wasn’t sure, but I was. And suddenly all of the good and bad memories and days upon days spent at that very park came flooding back. The heartache and shame. The stolen bike. The dirty magazine we found in the bushes that time. The tire swing. The splinters and scrapes. The cartwheels and frisbee games. And later, the boys and the make outs, the bickering and the end of an era. I hope I never forget my childhood and Riana. While there was some terrible stuff at times, it was mostly fantastic. We always had something to do when we were together. Even completely bored, we weren’t alone and that seemed enough most times.

Last night I was mentally putting together “the ultimate outfit” in my head (as I often do) and had a sudden spark of memory of my own, brighter than light itself: The perfect belt! And it came from my childhood! Not only that, my husband said he had the same fucking belt?! WTF?! How rad is that? The belt? Clear plastic skinny belt with rainbow pinstripes and a tiny metal/silver horse shoe buckle. Wow! I need this belt in my life NOW! Anyone else remember such a thing?

I say let’s all embrace these funny and quirky memories and just go with them. Let us all get swept up in a moment like the lady at the grocery store and just be in awe of that moment itself. Let it wrap it’s nostalgia around you and carry you back into childhood dreams and fantasies! Because it was back then that hopefully we didn’t care what anyone else thought of us, we were just kids and that was all we needed to be. <3

Biased, much? Perhaps, but I also like shining a light on people doing really good and heartfelt work. And WithoutScene is doing just that! You may know her from her posts over at BigFatBlog.com or my inaugural podcast. I think I’ve even linked to her new blogs once before, but fuck that…I want everyone to know what she’s doing because it is kicking my ass regularly with its goodness!

BadassFatass: Not only one of my favorite blog names ever (because it truly is), but also some really great stuff! This week she posted a newsletter she wrote for a friend’s niece and is sharing it with all of us here. It was so good I was left teary-eyed, no lie! I think it is so amazing that this may turn into something more. Because seriously? There just aren’t a lot or enough (are there any?) positive body messages out there for kids and teens. There just isn’t! And I think she really set the bar high for how this could be done. I so look forward to more on this endeavor.

FinessingTheFuckYou: Another fab name, right? Oh man, I love a good “Fuck You” and she does, too! Today’s post really struck me though. She addresses the stereotypes of fats and food and shares her own inner struggles with saying “Fuck You” to the moral way of thinking in regards to food. She so inspires me, even when we’re both too busy doing our work things to chat, that I had to make something for her birthday. Okay, well, I had wanted to make it and then conveniently her birthday was last month so it all worked out! Ha-ha! But I gave her a special kind of “Fuck You. ”

Please, check out her blogs and keep an eye on ’em because writers/bloggers get inspired by their readers and commenters and I know she has so much more to share with us!

Thanks,
<3
S

From Maxine, “Dieting is a way to improve your health, enhance your appearance, and live on food you wouldn’t feed a warthog.” I love that crabby old lady! She speaks the truth, man, I tell ya! Ha-ha!

When I read Health At Every Size by Linda Bacon PHD, I was astounded by the part about being conscious/present and enjoying your food and how that simple change can actually allow your body to absorb MORE NUTRIENTS?!!! Yeah, that was so rad! And I think it’s true. I mean, I know that society preaches the whole, “Eat to live don’t live to eat” thing, but I do not! But I have friends who feel that way. To them, “It’s just food” is a statement that makes sense. To me that statement is offensive!

Growing up a poor kid I didn’t crave candy and soda (though I did love me some “now and laters”), I wanted crisp, fresh veggies and salads and fruits! Those were true treats for me! If we bought a bunch of bananas at the store in the morning? They’d be gone by lunch…gone! I didn’t have a big family, either. My lil’ bro was born when I was 5 and my sister when I was 9, so there’s plenty of years spread out there. I know my mom & dad did what they could with what they had (my motto, always). Mostly our dinners consisted of some type of frozen generis(generic foods used to come in yellow boxes with black writing when I was little) veggies, some type of minute rice (though not always or that often) and ground beef. I don’t remember having chicken or any other type of meat very often and fresh stuff was a rarity. About every other week or so my dad would take whatever leftovers were in the fridge (all of the above ingredients) and mix them in a pot with cream of mushroom soup. He dubbed the concoction, “Goup!” It was my enemy! I hated “Goup” so much and he knew it! But when you’re poor you don’t have other options or choices. You eat or you don’t. So many dinners with lima beans I had to cry and gag my way through. It was either that or go to bed. Ack!

Growing up this way made me grateful and taught me to take pleasure in anything I ate. So when my husband and I first started actually cooking at home? It was miraculous! Flavors! Textures! Shiny rainbows of fruits and vegetables! If there was ever a reason to get religious, that would have been it for me! Ha! It all began with my husband wanting to try to make an omelet. We bought all of these veggies and in the end made massive omelets that we’d have to cut up to share and eat. Later we used Alton Brown and Rachel Ray cookbooks for recipes as well as inspiration. Once we took off those training wheels though, we started to truly experiment! Sure, there were a few failures, but you can always go get take out if all else fails, ya know? So we have fun with it and the reward is threefold! We get to make this magical creation together, enjoy all of the textures and aromas and finally sit down and eat! Woo!

Of course, I do get cravings. Pretty much at the exact same time every month. It’s always the same, too! It’s always bread, chocolate and a roast beef sandwich. Always. Nutritionally I know why the red meat (I never eat the stuff except when I get that craving) would be wanted, but bread and chocolate? Ah, I’ll chalk those up to my love of carbs! Ha! I always lose it when people say carbs are bad. I always chime in with, “Entire cultures and nations have been built upon the foundations of rice, pasta and bread! None of us would have been born without them!” as though it is a personal offense to me. Strangely, I have never made bread by hand. I did it once in a bread machine, but I wasn’t impressed with the results and gave up after that. My husband longs to make his own bread. We have books even! Ha-ha!

There are still some things that I feel left out about. Like seafood. It seems so vast and varied and socially acceptance and fabulous. That is until I try to eat some. Bleghck! I keep trying and I keep hatin’! It’s usually a texture thing, but some stuff just tastes bad to me, too. People flip out when they hear I don’t eat seafood. My husband’s family is from Maine, y’all! It’s hard! They look at me like some kind of weirdo-serial killer because of this. When we went out there, they had their big lobster dinner thing and I was fucking horrified! All of the cracking and sucking and picking and…sorry, I must stop or I’ll be sick. Anyway, I felt like I was watching a massacre. I know this is a tradition for them and I was trying my best to be all smiles and love, but it was a classic case of culture shock, I think.

I grew up on pretty bland food, too. So my palette hadn’t been exposed to much until I met my husband. His family would go to Indian Buffet and this fab Szechuan place (RIP Szechuan Garden, you are truly missed), not to mention real Mexican food! Oh my love! All I’d ever had was friggin’ Taco Bell and Mexican food that is not! It’s tasty when I am in the mood, but I’d much rather have a true enchilada from my fave local place! Now? Now I’ve tried cuisines from many nations and cultures and it’s so fun and exciting! Even if I don’t like something, it’s an adventure! And luckily one we can afford about once a month.

As I get older and wiser and have found that it really is the simpler things in life that matter most, I take in and enjoy things like never before. When I walk in my neighborhood, I smell the flowers and take in their colors and shapes, too. I smile at people and say, Hello! When I sit down for a meal, I savor and enjoy each bite. And since choosing to enjoy it more, I fully grasp now what full feels like for me and this helps me with not only eating, but shopping for food, too. While I occasionally suffer from eyes-bigger-than-my-belly syndrome, it has greatly decreased since adopting HAES/Intuitive Eating techniques.

What do you enjoy? What gives you the most pleasure? Has maturing changed your food preferences? Tell me about it! =0)