I have been overweight most of my life and I honestly don't remember a time when I didn't feel fat, clumsy, and ungainly. I look back into my farthest memories and an overwhelming majority of them can be separated into five piles:
- Food
- Something I was incapable of doing right
- Some person who was picking on me for my weight or clumsiness
- Some friend who mostly liked me but who also looked down on me about something
- Fear
Today, I want to talk about Food.
It was a few years back when I came to realize that I seem to have an inordinate amount of memories revolving around food. I remember my grandma's wonderful cooking and how she would always make me my own baby pancakes or baby pies whenever she made the regular-sized version, which was often. She loved to bake and cook and there were always amazing smells at grandma's house. She made black raspberry jam from the black raspberry patch she'd cultivated herself on her farm and it was the most heavenly smell in the world when she was cooking fruit and letting it drain from cheesecloth. It was very magical to me.
There was the food I ate at school. So many people talk with disdain about bad school lunches, but for me, they were wonderful. It was a chance to drown my sorrows over being one of the most picked on kids in elementary school. (There were two of us - me and a guy named Ronnie - and it was the "thing" to pick on us. Publicly being nice to either of us could earn a person public ridicule in the extreme. Even kids younger than me would call me names as evidence to their friends as to how tough they were for picking on one of the older kids.
When I was in 6th grade, I signed up to work in the cafeteria. They were always looking for kids to work because most kids considered it so UNCOOL to work in there that it was sure to get you picked on. But hell, I dealt with that all the time so it wasn't going to make it worse. It just meant that I could make friends with the cafeteria workers, I could get out of class (and away from the jerks) for a little while every day, I could be friendly with the few kids brave enough to work in there with me, and - the best part of all - I could eat all I wanted. We cafeteria kids got extras of any leftovers after everyone else was served. We'd sit around the table in back and feast. Sometimes, there at that little table, I was actually ADMIRED for being able to eat so much.
Then there was my mom. My relationship with her was always difficult, mostly because I was scared to death of her. She was angry and mean and seemed to resent being a mom.
(She and I are good friends now and I love her very much. It's important to me to make sure you hear that (and you'll hear it more than once) when I talk about this stuff because back then - she did a LOT of damage to me and I will be talking about that. We both worked very hard to reach the place we have and our relationship is proof that it can be done - but you have to really want it.)
In any case, my childhood always felt a bit like I was walking in a field full of landmines, trying to walk carefully and consciously so that I wouldn't invariably trigger an attack/explosion. And with my mom, one of the best ways I found to feel safe with her was when we were eating together. (That, and laughing - I firmly believe I developed my sense of humor partly because it made me safer when I made my mom laugh.) There are countless memories of us finding some food to eat together that we "probably shouldn't be eating but it tastes so good" and the role I took on as her "partner in crime" at those moments earned me not only safety, but actual closeness and camaraderie with her - at least for the amount of time it took to eat the pizza or pie or whatever we were stuffing our faces with at the moment.
I remember coming home after particularly difficult days at school and, if the house was empty, just binge eating on something. Sometimes it was ketchup sandwiches on white bread. Sometimes it was milk and cookies. Sometimes ice cream. Whatever it was, the real key was that I had to only eat a certain amount, so I wouldn't get busted. So I learned to eat a little of this and a little of that. When I got my allowance, I often bought my own cheap treats so I could pig out without anyone being the wiser. Looking back on it now, I can't help but shake my head a bit at how unhealthy my behavior was - and how sad. I was such a sad and broken kid, really.
Why did I eat like that?
I think that mostly, food was my friend and my comfort. It made me happy and gave me pleasure. It tied me to my grandma - the most beloved person in the world. When I was seven, my mom moved me far away from her farm in Indiana to Gallup, NM, and OH I HATED IT THERE. But when I ate certain foods, I could close my eyes and be back in Indiana and feel better for a little while.
In some ways, I'm thankful that I had food to help me get through the hell that was my childhood (which continued on in my young adult years.) Without food, I might have been more vulnerable to turning to alcohol or drugs for my "fix". It's hard to say really. All I know is that my food obsessions go way back and I have barely scratched the surface here.
I'd love to hear from others on this topic. Do you have food obsessions or do you remember having them in the past? What reasons (besides hunger) do you eat?
Blessings!
Witchymom
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