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The Shame of Food Love
Today’s post was submitted by a writer who is a friend of mine, Katie Cross. There are so many adjectives to describe her, I can hardly narrow it down. But I’ll try. She’s selfless, wicked-talented, supportive, generous, funny, approachable, kind, hard-working, adorable, and an award winning novelist. A friendship that seeded in the blogging world, bloomed when I was publishing my novel and she gave so much of her time to help me. We were able see each other in person this summer when she drove hours to meet me – just weeks before her due date – when my family vacationed in her home state. How cool is that? Katie is the real deal. She’s posted here before and we’re honored to have her back. –Beth
“I had a bad day. I need ice cream.”
Said every girl ever.
Except I said that a lot when I was a teenager. Like . . . way too much. And I remember one day in particular. It was a no-good-really-bad-day. I can’t remember why, but the epic grossness inside me was bad.
BAD, I say.
It just so happened that we had a brand new pint of BJ’s (Ben and Jerry’s for those of you not in-the-know) brownie chocolate something-something in the freezer. At ten o’clock that night I grabbed it, a spoon, plopped into a char in the kitchen, and proceeded to tell my mom and brother just how crappy my day had been while I popped spoonful after spoonful of creamy chocolate goodness in my 16-year-old mouth.
And then ate the whole. dang. thing.
I remember my brother just laughing about it, and me looking down at the empty container with a grudging sense of something that I later realized was shame. The sweet cream hadn’t erased my bad day, but the chunks of brownies had tasted good. I threw it away and holed up in my room to emote my bad emotions out with a book or something. The whole vent is hazy after the food leaves.
This was just the beginning of my food-related memories.
Chubby Girl.
I grew up hearing I was ‘big boned’ and ‘thick’ or ‘muscular’. Everyone was just too nice to tell me to lay off the potato salad or Ruffles. My family is like the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. We have a lot of people, are loud, have dark curly hair, and we love to eat. So when we got together?
It got crazy.
Grandma cooked Sunday dinners in our family, and man did she whip up a mean fried chicken platter. Grandpa always loved to add a little mashed potato to his butter, if you know what I mean. I had a single mom that worked three jobs to keep me and my brother clothed, which meant we spent summers roaming free, unsupervised. Sure, we went outside and played a lot. Softball. Baseball. Practice. Bike riding, you name it.
But I ate to make up for it.
Don’t Get Me Wrong.
I’m not here to say that food is bad: not at all. Nothing but love here for food! Obviously it has a huge role to play in the survival of our species or we wouldn’t love it so freaking much. But what I ate was not food.
It was sugar coated denial and anger and frustration and insecurity.
Most of all, it was shame.
Figuring It Out.
I’ll never forget the first time I realized that I ate because I felt. I’d never once considered that my emotions had anything to do with food. I was 21 or 22, working as an RN. My friend Stephanie, whom I hiked and exercised with all the time, walked up to my nurses station.
“I just had fun sized Snickers,” she said, holding the empty wrapper in one hand. She held another fun sized candy bar in the other. “And I still have one left. Before I even finished the first one, which I didn’t even enjoy, I was thinking about eating the next one.”
I lifted a puzzled eyebrow. So? I wanted to say. I do that all the time. “And?” I said slowly, trying to figure out her point. “What does that mean?”
She shot me an exasperated look. “I realized I’m not eating because I want the Snickers. I’m eating because I’m stressed. It’s horrible! I keep eating my feelings.”
She dropped the fun sized candy bar in front of me and walked away, not knowing she’d just started a chain reaction of thought in my brain that was doomed to ripple in my eternities forever.
For Eating’s Sake!
I thought of what Stephanie said for a long time—maybe a few months, okay?—without making any changes. I didn’t really get it at first. At least, that’s what I told myself. Now I know I didn’t want to understand. Christmas landed me with a bodybugg (remember those?) to try out because everyone at work swore by them. It forced me to not only pay attention to what I was eating, but how much. Stephanie’s Snicker bar disaster constantly rang through my head. Suddenly, I saw it for myself.
-14 hour shift with a few screaming kids that hated me? Sweet pork burrito from Cafe Rio.
-Dateless weekend by myself? NO! I didn’t care that I was alone while my friends went out. Who needed men anyway? Grocery store trip ending in lemon poppyseed cookies and a whole lot pre-packaged frozen foods.
-Night shift munchies and fatigue? Too keep me awake, of course. Fried potato wedges with melted cheese, bacon bits, and gobs of ketchup.
Do you see the ugly arithmetic I’d been avoiding? Emotions + Katie = Denial by Food
Change, Change, Change.
Stopping this awful process has been slow. I’d like to say it’s been steady, but I don’t know if I can or not. The best I can say is that it’s been integrated into who I am, just as much as the knee-jerk reaction of feeling emotions, must have food has been a part of my soul since childhood.
Keeping track of what I ate was my first step, and the eye opening shock of just how much I consumed worked well to quell my voracious emotional appetite. Forcing myself to ask, am I hungry? helped stop me from grabbing the extra bran muffin with my breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. But this process didn’t get better until I found help.
Like, emotional help.
For me (and this will not be true for all) I needed to face my demons. Open the closets. Face. My. Issues. It wasn’t until I started working with a professional therapist that I began to realize all that food I’d consumed had just been me piling stuff in front of my closet so I could hide the monsters inside. I didn’t want to face the emotions.
I didn’t want to feel.
“Of course I don’t want to admit how much it hurts,” I remember telling my therapist. Luckily, she ignored the implied duh in my tone. “Because it hurts.”
Wading through those food wrappers and confronting the monster sucked, quite honestly. But the most interesting thing happened once I did. The siren call of Cafe Rio faded. When I was hungry, I was actually hungry. After a bad day, my feet didn’t automatically go to the cafeteria. Oh, sure. I had days of wanting to binge on CPK BBQ chicken pizza (still do), but the force and power behind the emotions had faded.
I didn’t have to eat anymore.
The Eternity of Food Love.
I’d love to tell you that I don’t harbor a secret need to eat whenever ALL THE FEELZ attack me, but I won’t tell you that. It’s literally something in my head every day that I either brush into the back or face straight on.
Arby’s sounds so good right now. I’m pregnant, and miserable, so I have an excuse.
Husband is gone and I’m lonely, which means I can totally justify a stop for ice cream.
Every day.
But I will say this: it’s gotten easier to say no. If I’m suddenly thinking of food, I know that I need to figure out why, process what I’m really thinking about, and then move on. That doesn’t mean I never treat myself *snorts with derisive laughter* but I have it under much greater control.
It’s me that controls the emotions now, which means it’s me that controls my life.
Katie Cross is a lover of cookies great and small. She also writes awesome stories like Bon Bons to Yoga Pants, a story of self acceptance, weight loss, and learning the true meaning of being healthy. If she’s not trail running in the mountains with her husband, she’s wasting time playing candy crush. You can bet on that. Follow her on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, and more for great food tips, dieting help, and funny memes that’ll make you bust your gut.
The SisterWives 
I am the queen of justifying bad food choices. For most of my life I could get away with eating whatever I wanted and not gaining weight. The shame of eating is a lot less when you’re thin. That’s an awful and sad statement, but society doesn’t shame thin people for eating a burger and fries.
By the time I got to college I became more aware of the health impact and also gained a few pounds. But still, I justified a Bojangles Cajun Filet Biscuit after my morning class. Every morning. (if you don’t know what Bojangles is, consider yourself lucky. It’s soooo good.) Now, if I have a night of bad sleep I’ll justify a lunch of junk food “to help me get through the day.” At my kids’ long swim meets I justify a soda. I am only now, in the last year or two starting to let go of these “justifications.” Which is coincidental because in the last two years I’ve finally gone to therapy and started dealing with my demons. Hmmmm… I never really thought my eating was emotionally based until now.
I’m so glad you dealt with your demons. It’s a scary process but feeling in control of our emotions is so worth it. Thank you for sharing your story with food. And for doing it with some humor. 🙂
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Isn’t it amazing that, despite our heavily food oriented culture, a lot of us don’t think about food as a coping mechanism? Even though it is. It so is.
You’re right. Thin people get a lot less judgmental looks at McD’s than overweight people, but I honestly feel like that trend is changing. I feel like a lot of people are focusing on how bad some foods are for our health at ANY size, and i think that’s a beautiful thing.
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Food hasn’t been my numbing agent of choice but I completely relate to everything you’re saying. So many of us go through life believing that emotions are to be controlled instead of felt. Feeling is hard and masking feelings by numbing is easy – until it isn’t anymore. What’s especially challenging about dealing with food issues is that you can’t just stop eating. The same with over spending, which is something I’ve struggled with for years. I discovered over time that much of my need to numb had to do with never feeling safe so I found things that gave me temporary sanctuary from what scared me. I admire you so much for sharing your journey and discoveries!
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I truly believe a lot of addictions stem from necessary things. Like food, purchasing things for life, pain control, etc. It’s the exploitation of it that leads to worse things, IMO. Of course, there are plenty of addictions that stem from unneeded things. But I also believe that what you said it right on the money- we try to make ourselves feel safe (or good) through these avenues, and it doesn’t always work.
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You don’t know it yet, but we’re pretty much soul sisters. I’m pretty sure you just described my life.
There are days where I’m feeling super crappy, and I’ve trained my boyfriend to say things such as, “Do you want to order Chinese? Do you want ice cream?” I remember the first time I noticed that he did that and panicked, like holy shit. I made that happen. He knows that food is my emotional support system. We’re working on that. Well…I am. He’s helping.
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I love meeting a soul sistah!
Husband and I have had some good talks about it. If we’re not careful, we’re huge enablers for each other, so we have to really watch it and be careful. But, you know, it still happens.
I just wish my addiction was like carrots and hummus or something like that!
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Awesome post! Our relationship with food is complicated. Back when we were hunter/gatherers… or even earlier when we were… something else… finding anything sweet was a major deal. Sugar is a good source of energy. A fruit tree yields more calories with less work than most food sources. So we are genetically hardwired to get excited when we find sweet things.
Then there is the cultural component. We make food the center of so many celebrations. And dessert is always a major part of that. Then add holidays we make up just to eat… especially sweet stuff… Thanksgiving, Halloween, Valentine’s Day… Then we make giving chocolates a part of the love ritual… and add cake to the wedding ceremony…
Now ask yourself if people eat when they are depressed because it makes them feel better or if they just saw it in so many movies and TV shows that it has become a cultural reality. I doubt people in the dark ages ate when they were depressed. Cave people sure the hell didn’t. Through most of history we were too busy trying to find enough food just to stay alive.
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One of my very favorite TV shows is Golden Girls, and you better believe that whenever I watch it, I crave cheesecake. You’re so right! It’s hardwired into us as a cultural norm as well as a necessity, which makes it doubly hard to fight.
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Plus the food corporations put stuff in them to make them more evil… did you know that some soda drinks have a chemical designed to dry out your taste buds so the more you drink the thirstier you are?
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I’m not even surprised. Is anyone? #doubtit
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This is why I love you, Katie. Your honesty speaks to people. I’ve definitely been in the “reward” place when it comes to food. I did good, so I deserve something yummy.
*Screeches to a halt* wait a sec, that’s not right.
I also hate cooking, which gets me into trouble.
Thank you for sharing your journey with the world. I hope everyone hops on the Bon Bons to Yoga Pants train and checks out that amazing story. It connects to so many.
Love yer guts.
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Oh that reward train. SO BAD.
I started slipping back onto it after having the baby because. . . well . . . I had just had a baby. I’ve stopped it, but it’s a hard train to jump off of.
Thanks so much! Food is universal, so it connects all of us somehow!
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I have a love hate relationship with food. Sometimes I make it my enemy and stuff myself with junk to numb my feelings. Other times I very reasonably indulge in something sweet for the right reason – like having dessert at a nice restaurant. Still other times I feed myself amazing nutritious foods that make me feel totally vibrant.
I don’t know if I’ll ever completely stop emotional eating, but I’m aware of it. And I want to stop. It’s a process.
Thank you for this story. It’s an honor having you visit Sisterwives. xoxo
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I feel like that first paragraph describes my current relationship with food perfectly. I’ve overcome the worst of it for the most part, but there’s always something, you know?
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I’ve been obsessed with food for as long as I can remember. Part of it was taught – my mother also has a problem with food and when she wanted to eat something “bad” she would offer it to us as well, as she felt less guilty if she wasn’t eating alone. To this day, we still call her the “food pusher” and if I attempt to tempt my children with a sweet treat (for the same reasons), they are not hesitant to point out that I’m now the food pusher. Part of the problem it is the inability and/or failure to deal appropriately with my emotions. I’m working on that – but, as I’m sure you know, it’s a long road. I still have days where I’m mindlessly shoving anything I can find into my mouth – until I am overstuffed, nauseated, and feeling horrible about myself. I’m just striving to have more days where I don’t.
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I’m on a very similar journey. I get better at being more mindful about when and why I eat what, but then there are phases where I pay less attention and feel bad about myself. And this despite knowing that if I eat slowly and mindfully, no matter what I eat, I will feel better about myself again, and think about my feelings instead of eating them…
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