Why do we eat?

 

“Women look in the mirror more frequently than men do. It is , virtually, their duty to look at themselves – to look often. Indeed, a woman who is not narcissistic is considered unfeminine. … The display of narcissism goes on all the time.”

-Susan Sontag

What do you eat in a day? Do you count it? Do you compare your intake with others? Maybe they have a better schedule? Maybe you just need to start going to the gym and burn all the calories that you consume in a day.

These are questions that motivate women to go to the gym or seek diet routines. And as much as I’d love to talk about the patriarchal values reflected into the misconception of how another human being should eat, placing a concerningly amount of pressure upon the female gender, today it is all about food.

I’ve always had a  complicated relationship with food. There could be days in which I’d eat barely something, then days I’d take every chance I had to buy and eat something. I feel proud of  myself on days I have only one meal or none at all. If I’m going out with someone, I’m not eating anything at home. And if it happens that we don’t eat… well… a cup of coffee will do for that day.

 And after eating, one shouldn’t feel bad for fulfilling a basic need. It is the quintessential ritual to get to know a person. we trust the people we eat with, because it is the most vulnerable moment of our day. We turn our backs to the wilderness and dangers of nature, and sit down to enjoy our hunt. The specimen we allow to witness our feeding, is a trusted ally from now on. With the passing of time, food started being less about nurishment and more about the presentation and contents of what one is eating. It kept its roots of trust and bonding, adding  a social element to it. Wealth.  

With all that, food is still essential for living.  Yet, the guilt of having eatten a proper meal sometimes swallows me. So much that even the small amount of food I intake, gets thrown out.

This week I’m stuck at home, feeling like the world is essentially a battle between hunger, boredom and the few steps it takes me to go to the kitchen from my room. I never underestimated this struggle for anyone, but when it comes to me, no matter what decision I make, I’ll feel like a failure.

The covid quarantine left its mark on me. Without parental supervision at home, even if I didn’t eat that much, the lack of activity made me gain weight. even after getting back to school, my weight didn’t seem to budge, and unironically, I started thinking of myself as the fat girl.

5 years passed since then. I am at a normal weight ( I think), proportional to my height. My clothes are size S-M, and I’m wearing mostly my mother’s clothes from when she was younger (before she had 2 children).

I still am a fat girl.

There wasn't a time in my childhood when my family struggled with food. We always had plenty. Even during religious fasting time, we had our fridge full to the brim. Though other times I’d look inside and I’d feel that there’s nothing for me to eat. So, another empty night, followed by another busy day, and unbeknownst to me, I developed an eating disorder. Even from my countless researching hours, I have no idea what I have. For a while, bulimia fit. Binge eating then purging, in a ritualistic, strictly scheduled timing. In order to fit the diagnosis, I started purging even on days I didn’t feel like I ate a lot. I just needed  to fit the mold for something; in case I could be cured.
Turns out it is mostly psychological, and there are no treatments to it…
My worst episode was last September. I fell sick with an enterovirus. Because of how much I ate that day, I purged. It started a chain response in relationship to the virus, and for that horrible night, I had to endure fever, an empty stomach and purges after purges. After  one day at home, I felt  normal enough to go to school. By that time, I haven’t eaten anything for 48 hours, and it was about to get worse. For the next 5 days, the only things keeping me functioning were non citric fruits, water and tea. The rest I purged.

On Friday I couldn’t take in mentally anymore. I left school and went to the hospital. There the doctors put me on an IV- drip and gave me hospital food. It was the best meal I had in my life.

Perhaps that’s what hunger does for you. It is essential for life. And food doesn’t always have to mean hunger. Sometimes you just go for the vibes. Like Anthony Bourdain.

“your body is not a temple; it's an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.”

― Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

He was blunt, and honest, and never held anything back. At the same time, Bourdain somehow managed to be both humble and proud — obviously aware of his clout among chefs and foodies alike, but not rubbing it in our faces. He was the quintessential “cool guy,” who didn’t even seem to be trying that hard. He just was. Which is why he was cool.

’’ You learn a lot about someone when you share a meal together.   People are generally proud of their food. A willingness to eat and drink with people without fear and prejudice… they open up to you in ways that somebody visiting who is driven by a story may not get. I, personally, think there is a really danger of taking food too seriously. Food should be part of the bigger picture.’’

’’ I’m not afraid to look like an idiot.’’

He became my idol in so many ways. His words taught me how to enjoy the life I have and how even a  bad meal is a  great experience.

He traveled and wasn’t afraid to get lost, loose money gambling, drink to oblivion or just sit down and enjoy a scenery. His shows were never really about food or travel; it was about how one should visit a country. Behind the polished look of Hollywood’s biggest stars, he rushed forward with awkward jokes, embarrassing stories and just gross food you had to think twice before eating.

’’  I always entertain the notion that I’m wrong, or that I’ll have to revise my opinion. Most of the time that feels good; sometimes it really hurts and is embarrassing.’’

 Just like all of us, he had his demons. A struggle he didn’t fear to show the world. His suicidal jokes were in a way a cry to reality, where in the secluded of his own hotel room, he cried and wept for an easier life. Anthony never put a pink filter over his past, not even when it was drug related. He wore it with pride of who he had become eventually.

I also want to be proud of who I have become. The struggle is real and it shouldn’t be kept a shameful secret. And this is my way of doing so. For the two people I know personally, that read this mess of an online public diary.

I hate eating. I hate eating alone. But if you invite me out, with the promise of good food and a great coffee, I’ll come running and even be ready to pay for both meals.

So, book that place Alex.

 Take that day off Gabi.

Let’s have a meal and enjoy life, because food isn’t about the plate as much as it is about the person sitting across from you. And you are the one I’m most excited to eat with.