Two days ago I stopped dieting. I have shed every thought I have had to food. The thoughts like, “Can I eat that? Is it healthy? How much will I have to do to work this off later? No one will see me if I eat the whole box.” I gave away my inner self that tells me I am too fat for someone to love me, too fat to fit into trendy clothes, too fat to lift heavy in the gym, too fat. Just too fat. This is not to be mistaken for “not caring” or “giving up”. What I am giving up is the power that food holds over me. I am giving up my desire to spend every waking moment in my life in worry about my thoughts of my body, thoughts others have, and calculating over and over fats, carbs, protein. Fats, carbs, protein. Fats, carbs, protein. Over and over until I binge on the restrictions I gave myself just two weeks before, the day before, a month before.
I enjoy food. I relish in its beauty but often times I find myself shoveling the food in my mouth just to fill the “hunger” that is within me. I rarely find myself eating things that I truly love. If I truly love what I am eating, I could share with you the texture, the smells as it touches my lips, what the colors are, and how it makes me feel. I discovered a couple weeks ago while sitting at the dinner table, that I was finished before everyone else. They moaned each time a bite of food would touch their lips, glaze the inside of their mouth, run down their esophagus and into their stomach, closing their eyes to marvel at the wonderful particles that filled their body. Conversation about the day and the food would take place between each bite. Then there I am, fork to mouth, shoveling the food in, barely breathing before the next bite greets me. I was not even aware of what was going on. I was hearing conversations, hearing words but I wasn’t listening. I instead was listening to the fork touch the plate, scraping the last bits of food, hearing it graze my teeth and my lips wrapping around the fork’s surface in order to make sure everything was in me.
I frequently find myself saying “that was good.” Or “that was delicious”. What I am really saying is “I have filled my void and whatever mood I was in is temporarily fixed because the food has sustained my thoughts of the situation or the events that have occurred in my life up until this point.” What I am really saying is that “I just ate my emotions and right now, in this moment, it feels good, satisfactory, sustained.”
Two days ago I decided that the issues I have with food is not about the food but it is not, not about the food. The issues I have are scares of my past, situations that have burdened me, crushed my soul and hindered me from being me. I don’t even know who I am. I was so focused on allowing the food to think, speak, and comfort me that I got lost. I let happenings of the past define me and the food the guide me. I have used food to create my self worth, to define me as a person and how much I am willing to give myself in a present moment. I look for it to tell me what to do, what to think, and how to spend my days. But it is not about the food. It is about my mind drifting to food to find solace in the things that have beaten and tattered me. It is about my mind not being able to withstand coming against the demons and telling them to fuck off. It is about my mind being weak and not believing that I am worth more than what my body and my mind pay me.
It is only now that I spend the next 30 years of my life being worth more than what my body thinks it is worth. It is only now that I enjoy every morsel that goes into my body and every activity my body does. IT IS NOW.