I have always loved food.
When I was a kid, this was completely acceptable. I’d go to some bitches princess party, let’s call her ‘Ashley F with the denim jumper’, and be greeted by mounds of pizza and chip things. I would then put my face directly in the Jax cheese puff bowl and lay there like an ostrich until somebody pulled out the Carvel cake. Then I would finally emerge to make cake soup and growl at whoever got the biggest frosting flower.
When I was a teenager and lived an innocent life with no booze or hangover pain, I would have ‘GIRLS NIGHT SLEEPOVERS’ where we’d eat 3 pints of Ben and Jerry’s, 16 pounds of Turtle Shell chocolate syrup, and a party sized bag of Lays BBQ chips. We’d then AIM the fuck out of our crushes and talk about Northfaces or whatever the hell else human training bras talked about.
I loved food and people let me love food and I was a happy little baby clamwich. However, as I got older, things changed. Somewhere, I think around 16, food + girls became more about ‘moderation’ and less about enjoyment. It was about constriction and guilt. I remember this starting slowly, maybe one evil c*nt diet coke at a time. We all started getting fro yo and low-fat Oreos at the supermarket. My friend pinched about a centimeter of belly fat and decided she couldn’t eat her tater tots because she was ‘getting fat.’ Uhhhh bitch they are your TATER TOTS, respect it. We’d see cover girls with concave stomachs and the ribcage of a starving deer, soldiers of the bikini season and fruit salad army. We’d stand sideways into the mirror and suck in our stomachs because that really fucking helped so much. I remember the first time I felt weird about wearing a bathing suit in public and the first time I looked at someone thinner than me and thinking ‘this is what you are supposed to look like, kid.’ I remember trying to use my grandmother’s Weight Watches pamphlets to attempt to lose weight. I remember thinking that’s what girls do. I mean, sure, I wanted to lose weight eating only cereal and butter sticks, but I used the point system anyway. I began to get bitter and mean towards food because HER collarbones stick out more than MINE. I was a real little shit, but this journey is normal for a lot of little shits just like me.
I began to turn my back on food. Being on a diet is a totally normal thing for a girl to do, it is expected and accepted and gets you on the road to being beautiful, amiright? Girls should totally fucking hate food! Eating bread, after all, was the sole reason why this 4’11 girl with hips could NEVER be a model. Noshing on full-fat cream cheese was obviously why Jonathan didn’t ask me to the dance. Food is a slutty whore! This lead to some darker moments of my young life: eating only low-fat Hot Pockets, not eating cookies for a whole year, measuring everything I ate, vicious calorie-counting. When the guy I was dating told me if I gained weight he would break up with me, I ate Ramen broth for a week (jokes on him though, he’ll forever have that nasty ass face). I declared a thumb war on the five pounds that I was always intent on losing. It was a constant battle of ‘I should lose, I want to lose, food is a dick.’ News flash, though: 5 pounds don’t make a fucking difference on your body. Whenever one of my dumbass friends is like I lost five pounds can you tell? I go ‘no you shit I lost that after peeing out all of my three coffees and Big Gulp I had today IDGAF.’ Still, I poked and prodded at any bit of fat I thought I had and was a miserable asshole nobody wanted to hang out with. I would try on dresses small enough for slutty toddlers in the most unflattering dressing room light ever and hate myself forever and it was just all generally bad. I developed some terrible, shameful habits that are all too normal amongst girls nowadays.
When you love something, though, you cannot stay away from it for too long. That is why, after being too skinny and too unhealthy and too unhappy, I had a moment. For one thing, I’m not going to be a supermodel because a) I don’t wanna be and b) come on, what am I, a Russian fembot? The main thing is that I fucking love food. If you gave me the option to settle down with a grilled cheese sandwich, white picket fence and all, I would think about it for a minute which says something. I am always hungry and will always eat. I was sick of being unhappy because I ate a bagel for breakfast, I was sick of feeling guilty because girls aren’t supposed to eat they are supposed to salad and take Xanax and wear coral. Fuck that. This wasn’t about being fat or skinny or in between since it has nothing to do with weight. It has to do with low self-esteem, images of super Photo Shopped tan bitch bodies, and a need to meet an impossible standard by depriving yourself of delicious things. This was about being happy instead of unhappy.
I started to REALLY eat again. Eat for pleasure. I had deliriously happy moments during bites of hamburger, pulling apart a grilled cheese sandwich, or going to a tapas bar and not ordering a salad. I was happier enjoying my food than depriving myself of it and being one size smaller because NO SHIT ITS DELICIOUS. Throw my hands up, they’re playing my song!
Truth is, I think that if you grab at my hips, there’ll be a little more meat at the buffet now and I’m not a nun-like angel so I still have moments about it. Also, not really. The difference between total deprivation and responsible enjoyment is smaller than you think. I still look hot in dresses and fuck off since it also means that I can dip my fingers into the dips and not feel terribly guilty about. I don’t want to feel guilty about it because there’s enough real world problems to actually worry about than Doritos intake. Now, my diet is this: I run around sometimes and I have some self-control and know that eating 400% Saturated Fat is a no-no because I will die to death. I will also no longer deprive myself of fried pickles or ranch dressing when the moment calls for it. I’m cool with this.
The thing is that girls love food. They are allowed to eat and enjoy and giggle at all the good food. They should dig it without feeling like they kicked a puppy. There are so many things worse than gaining a pound-Two and A Half Men comes to mind-but you’d never know it from all the Lean Cuisine Fat-Free guilt vomit out there. ‘Ladies should only enjoy raw vegetables and quinoa and water or else you won’t look good in this high-waisted jumper.’ Oh come the hell on. I’m bored of all of the damn pictures of girls with tamed eyebrows and weapons-grade hipbones staring at the ocean and drinking water. I present you real girls who eat and drink because they fucking love it. They are not freakazoids praying for burgers to be calorie free. They are happy eating because you should be happy eating: Food is good. Life is short. And you guys, really, you are all very beautiful and I swear it’s not the vodka talking. You really just are. And I want you to love food and eat food and not feel like you are an evil bloated fuck for it. EAT ON.
So yes, fuck yes, I’ll have fries with that. Suck it, you hungry bitches!
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