Cake Belly
Like all relationships, my relationship with food has seen its ups and downs. I have always loved food and it’s not like we’ve had all out fights or anything but let’s just say, it can sometimes be a bit toxic and our relationship hasn’t always been the healthiest. Literally.
All things considered, I have always been a good enough eater. Unlike my very picky but wonderful sister, I’m not fussy. I like most things ( mushrooms and bananas being the exception because they are obviously Satan’s creation and should be avoided at all costs). I’m the easiest dinner guest, I swear. I have no dietary requirements or allergies and even if you served me soup made from your grandad’s rotting toenails, I would probably eat every last drop, still manage a smile and even a meek thank you for having me before I promptly threw up. In other words, it’s safe to assume that if you ever have me over to your house, you never need to worry about me clearing my plate. FYI I can also use my knife and fork like a proper young lady and I even promise to refrain from licking the plate clean. Lucky you.
So, considering this supreme level of sophistication that has me more than prepared for my future housewife duties, why is my relationship with food so complicated? Well, I actually think all of our relationships with food are. As far as I’m concerned, the way we approach food- at least in western society is all wrong. We have this warped justification for treating ourselves after a hard day or after doing something right to the point where we are rewarding ourselves for completely insignificant and unworthy things. “Hey, you took the overflowing bin out today- well done- have a cookie!” Before you start to feel attacked because I imagine more than one of you will relate to this, I want to stress that you are not and never will be worse than me. With the fear of repeating myself, I will remind you that I am not a lifestyle blog as much as you may joke (talking to you Emma Stewart!). I have never pretended to be a role model and nor do I think that anyone would consider me one.
Even in recent weeks, I have failed at this responsibility. I have tortured myself over Instagram posts of various fitness trainers that I naively followed to give me inspiration to work and train harder- HA! You’ve heard that one before I’m sure. It’s all about motivation until it isn’t. Until you start comparing yourself to these edited and frankly unrealistic photos. The thing is, even if you grew up bombarded by social media and are fully aware of its dangers, you are by no means immune. I have no disillusions. I do not and probably never will look like any of those models. It used to really bother me, upset me even. I was never what you would say ‘fat’ but I was definitely never ‘skinny’, if you want to grossly oversimplify it. It wasn’t that I hated how I looked but I have never been happy either. I have always compared myself to other girls and wanted to desperately look like someone else. When I looked in the mirror, I just saw so much wrong with what I saw. I wanted smaller boobs, not to be as tall, to have a flatter tummy, smaller thighs….the list goes on and on and we tear ourselves down like this every day. It’s frighteningly easy to see how eating disorders manifest when we torture ourselves like this especially amongst the most young and vulnerable people in our society particularly when you consider the influence of social media personalities like Kim Kardashian and her appetite suppressant lollies. I’m sure this kind of list is familiar to a lot of you. We are the most aware of our supposed imperfections and we think the rest of the world sees them as clearly as we do. When, in reality, they just couldn’t care less.
Now, when I first moved to university, I was very much aware of these imperfections. Picture an already terrified 18 year old who had never spent longer than a week away from her parents and until that point had led a very sheltered life in her beautiful hometown of Linlithgow. You knew I was going to plug it eventually! She had grown up with a mum who could honestly make a delicious dinner out of anything. We didn’t always have a lot of money growing up so that very often was the case. Trust my incredible mum to make a baked potato a Michelin star meal! I always assumed that my sister got the cooking gene. She was the experimenter in the family and while the concoctions that took refuge in her room have frightened me in the past (I’m sure the house will be cordoned off for radioactive testing at some point) . I was always secretly jealous of her endless creative spirit. I liked books, I was never practical. Everyone assumed that Charlie would take on all future family dinners, more out of fear that I would poison them I’m sure. So, I quite happily assumed the role of taster. I always enjoyed the food but never the cooking. That was it, the Earth kept turning, the sun rose and set and we continued to laugh at just how bad I was at cooking. All was right with the world.
It only really became a problem when I moved out to go to university- when I properly started cooking for myself. I just never saw the point to it. Why would I make this big decadent meal when it was just for me? I mean I didn’t care so why bother? When you pair this complete and utter lack of motivation to cook with my crippling low self esteem, you create the perfecting breeding ground for comfort eating. We all know this false trap- you eat some sugar to feel better about something-yourself probably. It works for a second and then you wake up fatter than you were and you feel even worse than you did. It’s a cruel cycle I know well and it’s a habit that I struggle to break even now. I’ll binge eat crap when I’m bored or sad and watching Netflix, I’m too tired to cook or too busy to make a full meal. Excuses, excuses.
That being said, I’ve tried teetotal. I have cut sugar out of my diet for a few months at a time but I’m afraid it never lasts. Like a crazed addict, I fall off the wagon once and that’s it. The next time you’ll see me, I’ll be crouching guiltily over sugary doughnuts, my face smeared in the strawberry jam of shame. I did it after my birthday, I made one of my ill-fated sweeping declarations and I broke it before the day was out. I had eaten a tonne of cake and since I hadn’t run for a while, I was feeling a little guilty. I swore to cut sugar out of my diet for the millionth time and naturally, my flatmates laughed. I don’t blame them, I laugh at me too. It’s just no use having unrealistic expectations. Going to extremes, although admirable, it is fundamentally unachievable and if I’m honest, you end up feeling worse in the long run.
My relationship with food changed when I took some responsibility for what I was putting into my body. I’m not about to preach that my body is some sacred temple before you throw up your lunch but I will admit it is a saying for a reason. Like I said, the more crap I ate, the worse I felt. It wasn’t just a case about weight, although it did play a part but when you aren’t getting the nutrients you need it affects so many things. It affected my skin, my energy level, my ability to concentrate- everything. The power of food is unparalleled. I lived on noodles and coffee for months during my second year at uni. When you combine this with working night shifts and studying, it’s easy to see how my mental health got so out of hand. Looking back, I’m not sure how I didn’t see this toxic relationship sooner.
As soon as I started to enjoy cooking for myself and began to actively look for and develop recipes, I knew I didn’t want to go back. I started challenging myself with new ingredients. After Halloween, I made Pumpkin and Sweet Potato soup and you’ll never see a more entertaining sight than watching me try to carve that monstrosity apart. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Gordon Ramsay, even if I do swear as much as him but I love to cook. I love cooking for other people- any excuse for a dinner party but that was easy to learn. I love hosting parties so the need to play hostess is fairly second nature to me. The hardest bit is learning to love to cook for yourself. It’s easy to overlook yourself and say you can’t be bothered. However, what you are really saying here is that you aren’t worth the effort. Your meals should have the same amount of effort in them as if you were cooking for someone else. That’s my rule anyway. ( Yaaaas Queen-can you tell I’m channeling Antoni from Queer Eye?!)
I’m not saying I do this every day, I do try and make a food plan for my week but sometimes life happens. It has a nasty habit of doing that I’m afraid. As a student, my budget is often restricted to the Lidl veg aisle and any cans of baked beans I can get my hands on. There’s no avocados week before SAAS I can assure you. I imagine that I will share some of my favourite ( budget-friendly) recipes with you in the coming weeks but until then I will leave this with you. I try and give myself as much variety as I can afford. I try and keep it interesting because then you won’t get bored and it’ll remain fun. It’s true that I’m not creative in a DJCAD kind of way but I find my own ways to experiment and express myself. Food is just one of the ways I do that.
I will also say be kind to yourself. Have that take-away and don’t punish yourself for indulging a little because truthfully life is too short to worry yourself about such pointless things. It’s true, I’m never gonna live off 6 almonds per meal or whatever extreme diet comes next and I will never look like a supermodel but I don’t really want to. That life sounds hard. Where is the joy in restricting yourself like that? Punishing yourself when you slip from the carb-free diet? Starving yourself until everyone around you starts to look like food? Life is hard enough and you’re better to leave that energy for things that actually matter, like, you know, a degree. So, the message is love yourselves guys ( ..ew…gross- that’s not what I meant…get your heads out the gutter ) and your cake bellies too.
Lots of Love,
Becca x
If any of the stuff I have spoken out has come close to home, especially anything about eating disorders, I will leave a few links here. There is always someone to help- someone on the other end of the phone an I want you to remember that you never have to go through anything alone.
SEED: Eating Disorder Support Service.
