stuffs man just stuffs

nutritionista:

Love the original post and likeproust’s response.

For more on guilt + eating, read No-Regret Eating.

likeproust

hugparty:

Some women today don’t just feel bad about their size. Many who are even a size 2 or 0 feel bad about even eating. Eating! Something a human must do to live!

Don’t eat this or that, and if you do, don’t do it in front of other people - they might see you ENJOY FOOD. Don’t eat in private; only eat in front of other people so they can tell people “She eats! She eats a lot!” and you can come off as someone with “just a good metabolism” or “good genes”.

Think of the classic pathetic woman image - alone, eating ice cream and pizza, drinking wine. In movies or tv, it’s always the same. Behold the sad loser sitting alone and OMFG EATING. It’s a media portrayal that is shoved down our throats telling us that a night in pj’s with food and tv is depressing, low, to be avoided lest we be seen as a loser.

An overweight - or sometimes even a healthy weight - woman eating anything but a salad and water elicits thoughts of “put down that food and go for a run!” If you are less than perfect, better go enjoy that hot fudge sundae in a closet somewhere. And even then, don’t enjoy it because you’re a miserable failure for eating alone.  

This guilt culture about eating has to stop. People eat. Some people eat a bunch of crap that is not good for them for various reasons. Some people get home at 8pm and put on lounge pants and eat crap by themselves for various reasons. Making people feel guilty about eating - no matter WHAT they are eating - is not going to solve obesity and related issues. What people eat and why is none of your damn business.

Stop making the world feel bad about enjoying and loving food (any food) just because you feel bad about eating.

Let me tell you something. When I slow down and enjoy my food - when I really taste what I’m eating, that’s when my stomach and my heart and my brain and my body are most connected.

When I revel in making dinner, that’s when I’m at my best. I go to my favorite grocery store with mounds of fresh produce - lovely, crisp, colorful produce. I pick out the best veggies and fruits. I go over to the meat counter, chat with the young guy there, flirt a little. Ask what he recommends. I pass cases of amazing cheeses, made with as much care as I’m assembling my next meal now.

And then I go home, unpack, get to work. Let me tell you, I LOVE to be in a clean kitchen, putting together a meal. I love to chop vegetables. Fuck me, my favorite thing in the world on some days is dicing a fucking onion.

What did I make last weekend?

Fish tacos with fresh tilapia, homemade mango salsa brimming with red onion and cilantro, guacamole from ripe avocados, thick with garlic, cilantro, lime juice, and onions. And then, what the hell, I squeezed some lemons, mashed up some raspberries made fresh lemonade.

In fact, I would wager that the MORE you care about your food, the better you eat. And when I say “better,” I don’t mean deprivationally. I don’t mean counting calories. I mean you eat food that tastes better, looks better, feels better going down. You enjoy it more when you care.

When I eat a McDonald’s Cheeseburger, I don’t eat it because I care too much about food. I do it because I’m in a hurry, in a jam, need something because I’m starving and I don’t give a fuck what I’m shoving down my throat.

Enjoying food is not the problem. It’s never been the problem. And for people who really care about what they eat, who enjoy food, who love making a beautiful meal for themselves and the people they care about - no amount of shame or bullying can take that away. Because I can craft a delicious, healthful meal with just as happily as I craft a delicious, decadent dish like linguine alla carbonara - and I enjoy eating them both.

Without guilt.

Fuck guilt.

nutritionista:

I spent all weekend moving to a new house in a new city (45 minutes away from my old city), and I’m beyond exhausted. But more than anything, I wanted to cook in MY kitchen. I wanted to break in the space with a fabulous-but-simple recipe, and I found the perfect one from (where else?) Real…