Of Food and Love

My parents weren't just generationally inclined to be stoic, they were so genetically as well. This is not a criticism, as I love my Mam and Pap VERY much, it's an observation. Displays of affection were rare, if happening at all.
If I cried during a movie, which was pretty much always, my Mam would say: "Why are you crying? It's just a movie!"

Emotions were to be kept strict under wraps.

But they were all I had. And I had so many.
And keeping them inside would just result in them spilling over.

We all knew our parents loved us. They just showed it differently. My Mam would bake and cook; custards, cakes, pies, cookies - my Dad would grow and supply us all with enough fresh veggies to start a food stand.

It is unfortunate that I somehow didn't manage to translate: Love = Food into Love = Veggies. I translated Love = Food into Love = Pounds of Sugary Goodness!

This wasn't a problem in my teens - because I lived at home and there wasn't always sugary goodness around. But then I left home for the big city and that's where it all started to go spiralling downhill. Food no longer = love. It increasingly became synonym with ANY feeling I could possibly have. Sad? Cake. Happy? Cake. Alone? Cake. Together? Cake. Tired? Cake. Not tired? Yeah sure, I'll have cake!

I have been on many diets since then. I've been slim, I have been at the very, very opposite of that, and mostly I hung somewhere in the middle. I was almost always unhappy.

My relationship with food is changing - it's getting to be more about nourishment than emotion - but it is a work in progress.

Yesterday I made brownies. Not because I felt anything I had to translate into brownies but because I just really, really love the taste of them :)


Me-Monday - week 2