The Dissolution of a Food Culture
Ok, let’s cut the crap.
I’m overweight. I’m an active participant in the obesity epidemic. And I’m not proud of it.
I can blame it on the heavy-duty steroids I took for a decade to treat a lung disease I didn’t have, but that’s not the problem. I’m sure it contributed but if I place exaggerated importance on that aspect I cast aside the truth, which is that I did this to myself.
This is Body-By-Wisconsin. This is what fifteen years of heavy beer-drinking, cheese curd-eating, sit-beside-a-campfire-rather-than-taking-a-brisk-walk looks like. Beer and food; food and beer—two undisputed loves of my life.
Is there anything more exciting than thinking you’re out of beer (gasp!) then finding one tucked away in the back of the crisper behind the carrots you aren’t eating? At one time in my life, no. That was back when I woke up pickled, and greeted most mornings facedown in the toilet.
My love affair with food was a little more complicated. I never bawled over a bucket of Hagen Daas after a breakup, so I didn’t think I was an emotional eater. I have, however, eaten whole plain cheese pizzas to bury stress and depression, so…yeah, there might be an emotional component to it.
I also found intense yet fleeting pleasure from a super-sized drive-thru meal after a hard day. I deserved those ten-piece nugget meals (how had six nuggets ever filled me up before?) and extra-large Coke before cracking my first beer. I survived another day in the working world. What better reward could there be?
How about an over-sized belly and seriously distorted relationship with food and alcohol? Because that’s what I’m working with now.
“Do not look where you fell but where you slipped. ”
Slippage
Allowing food and alcohol to take over as masters of my life
Fear of food, fear of lack, fear of excess, fear of myself, fear of calories and fat, fear of being seen, fear of people disrespecting my boundaries around food and leftovers
Struggle between what I know I should eat versus what I’ve always eaten
Stress over the cost of a healthy lifestyle
Little to no physical exercise
Putting health, food prep, and physical activity dead last on my list of things to do
My food culture is a mess. I still eat like a kid when given the choice. I put habits and imagined cravings ahead of health and feeling good. I was never forced to eat my vegetables as a child, if we could ever afford to put any on the table. In school my generation was taught that grains and breads reigned supreme, not that I ever paid attention. I ate whatever was the cheesiest, the saltiest, the breadiest. And when life was hard—hell, even when it was easy—I refused to deny myself the few pleasures I could get out of life: food and drinks.
At this point, a simple diet plan—which I would never follow anyway—isn’t enough. I need to change my entire relationship with food.
Most of what’s wrong stems from being stuck in old habits and beliefs, and that familiar nemesis FEAR. Taking the advice of my own conscience, which seems tired of having the same old thoughts and same old talks, a major food culture overhaul is in order.