Let’s talk about food for a minute.

Sometimes y’all get a little more than you bargained for when you come here, don’t ya?

Most people don’t have problems with food. Others have problems like allergies, side-effects and the like.

Me? My problem with food is that I feel guilty eating it.

I’ve always been heavy. My father is heavy. My aunt is very heavy. My grandmother was no small person, either.

I’m not sure why, but my Mom always had an issue with my weight. I think that maybe if she hadn’t, my head wouldn’t be so fucked up about it now. I’ve always felt “inappropriate” because of my weight. Because if I was okay the way I was, my mother wouldn’t have been trying to change me, would she? (And for the record, I love my mother dearly, and have no angry or unresolved feelings about this with her. I’m past that. I don’t blame her for my weight, or the problems I have in my life because of the weight.)

When I was younger, it felt like every bite I ate was watched. Mom would sometimes give me a stern look, or even yell at me for eating something she thought I shouldn’t. Consequently, I learned how to hide what I ate. I learned how to hide food, to eat in private, to enjoy those “stolen treats” more than any meal I’d eat sitting at a table. The food I ate secretly was what I enjoyed. Meals were just to cover and pretend to be “a good girl.” I remember loving it when she worked part-time sometimes, because I could come home from school and devour half a package of Oreos before she got there. And I did sometimes, even knowing that she’d come home and find them gone and yell at me. Maybe it was defiance or rebellion.

I’ve carried that stupid ass trait into adulthood. I *still* have a tendency to eat in private, although I’m not nearly as psycho about it as I used to be. And I don’t hide food anymore.

But I still have the guilt. And that’s what I’m working on right now: The guilt from eating, and the feeling “inappropriate” because I’m overweight.

The last few days, I’ve just tried eating only when I’m hungry, and only what sounds good. If nothing does, I keep looking until something does – or – munch on some pretzels until something does.

As far as how I feel about being “inappropriate”, that’s taking a little more work. But I am working on it.