Friday Food Confessions
I have a complicated relationship with food. Don’t we all? I think mine is a bit different than most but maybe that’s because very few of us are truly honest, even with ourselves, about details that shame us.
I’m letting my shame come out.
On a fairly anonymous blog.
I don’t have the courage to be up front about this stuff in my real life, but this is bare wood, right?
I’m of a totally normal weight. In fact, before I got pregnant with the twins (Before Twins – BT) I was pretty bombshell-esque if I do say so myself. I wore tucked-in blouses with snug-fitting pencil skirts and high heels to work every day. I had big boobs, a tiny waist and respectably curvy hips.
I’m only 10 pounds above what I was BT, but it’s amazing how much that 10 affects my clothing choices and my self image. I have TT (twin tummy) and my boobs went from big and luscious to gigantic and obscene. I’ve developed saddle bags. I guess I had them to some extent before but they were minimal and didn’t really bother me.
Even BT though, I was weird and sneaky and very secretive about food. I would hide food even when I lived alone. Why? I don’t know. I was afraid someone would come over and see what I really ate I guess. I still hide food. I hide it from OW. When the twins get old enough to notice that I eat food and to want some, I’ll be hiding food from them too. I’ll snatch bites of things from behind cupboard doors or around the corner from the playroom. I know this about myself because that’s exactly what I did with FS (the first set).
This week I made a loaf of banana bread as a birthday gift for an uncle-in-law I’ve met maybe two or three times. I’d let some bananas get really ripe, I looked up fabulous recipes using weights instead of measurements and I studied the optimal mixing methods, all so I could make the perfect loaf for this uncle-in-law-whom-I’d-met-maybe-two-or-three-times.
when I started making it though, I began to feel an overwhelming sense of greed and regret that I was going to have to give it away. I thought about just not giving it to him and wishing him a happy birthday with nothing in hand. I thought about making mini-muffins so I could eat some and not have anyone notice it wasn’t a full recipe’s worth.
I worked hard to control myself and continued on. I lost that control some at the end, just before pouring the batter into the loaf pan. I started eating the batter. Just a bit that splashed onto my hand at first. Then a dollop from the scraper, then a spoonful, then another.
How gross is that?
I’d be absolutely mortified if OW or his mother or my mother or anyone I know knew about this.
And that’s just the beginning, Friends. My food weirdness will take care of loads of blog posts.
That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it!