Here’s a secret: right now I’m thinking about Food. In ten minutes, I’ll still be thinking about Food. Two hours ago, I was thinking about Food. What I ate for breakfast, what is available for lunch, what should we have for dinner? Will The Offspring be completely offended if I dare serve chicken that is not breaded? What if I put peas on the plate? How many calories are in that slice of bread? Wait, no...no bread. God, I miss bread. Do we have snacks? Did I pack snacks? My stomach is growling. Did I remember to eat breakfast? Crap. I forgot breakfast. It’s 2 pm, maybe I could eat lunch now? Do I have the makings for a salad? Why is Trader Joe’s out of the chicken burgers? Don’t they know I put those in my salad? Maybe a veggie burger today. Can I eat carbs for dinner tonight? What’s for dinner again? I want a cookie.
I don’t want to think about Food so often, but I can’t help it. Not only my Food consumption, but the consumption of my children and if I am setting them up for a lifetime of failure based on the fact that, yes, sometimes I bribe them with delicious things to get them to do what I want. Judge me judge me judge me. I know you are, anyway.
Here’s the thing: Food has spoken to me and it wants me to know that I am it’s bitch. It will rule my thoughts, strike fear in my soul, and hold me hostage. It needs me to understand that it is the boss of me and if I don’t obey, there will be trouble.
For instance, Food goes ahead and makes something so wonderful, like Bread. And here we are, happily eating Bread. But then Bread says...hey, lady...you can eat me as much as you want, but there will be Consequences. Let me introduce you to my friend, Lettuce. And Lettuce is all....hey....put some turkey in me, roll me up and call me a sandwich. I’m delicious and crisp! YOU ARE NOT A SANDWICH, LETTUCE. But, okay. I guess I’ll have Lettuce to avoid those Consequences.
But then other times, Food is all....what’s your problem, lady? I introduce you to Bread and you blow it off for Lettuce? Bread’s feelings were really hurt and you should apologize. Go get Bread now and eat it. EAT IT NOW.
Still yet, I see Food sitting there on The Offspring’s shoulders and it’s whispering-Don’t eat that. Don’t you dare even pretend to eat it. Don’t even let your fork touch it. Tell her you don’t like it. Tell her again. Why would she put Broccoli on your plate? Really, Broccoli? Start whining. Louder. Really loud. Now leave the table and cry. BWHHHHAAAAAAAA!!! Now, come back, quick, and ask for a treat.
And then of course there is this: Chips. Salsa. Why can’t I stop? Why can’t I stop? Someone take my hand and remove it from the chip basket. Oh, that’s delicious. Why is this so delicious? Stop. No. I can’t. I WON’T! Yes-FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WE WOULD LIKE MORE CHIPS! You know, for my kids.
I can’t be the only one with these thoughts...right? This is just one area of my life where I wonder...is this normal? Am I doomed for a lifetime of feeling guilty about pizza? Because I really, really love pizza and I need it sometimes. Do men think like this? Because as I watch men eat, it just doesn’t seem like they...worry too much about the fact that they just ate a burrito that rivals the size of my 2 year old. They seem so...free...with their food. They are not Food’s bitch. Food is their bitch. I want Food to be my bitch. And I’m working on that. But until then, I’ll go ahead and order the burrito bowl...yes...a burrito in Lettuce. And good God, don’t put rice in there! But, I’m going to need some more chips.
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