The Joy of Eating

TW: Discussion of eating disorders and diet culture

I live to eat because I love to eat. It’s taken a long to accept that part of myself. As a fat person, there’s supposed to be a lot guilt and shame around enjoying food. I mean, I’m a fat Black woman—how cliche! Food should be a thing I sneak, squirrel away, and feel bad about. And, to be sure, I have spent a good many years feeling just that way. But I never feel that way when I’m eating. When I eat foods that are delicious, foods that I enjoy I feel something close to bliss. Like when I bite into a perfectly toasted piece of white bread slathered with butter, or a crisp Pink Lady apple, or a creamy wedge of brie. I just feel a hum of orgasmic joy. However, I learned early on that enjoying food while being fat was taboo.

The thing is that I refuse to be held hostage to other people’s expectations of me. Unless they are my doctor, their opinions about my health are immaterial. And thankfully I’m blessed with a doctor who is not obsessed with pathologizing my fatness. That, plus years of my own inner work, have given me room to explore a more radically loving relationship to food.

Case in point: not too long ago I ate a box of cookies and it felt so good. So damn good.

I ate each chocolate covered marshmallow cookie cake with reverence, an occasional moan escaping my lips as sweet as a lover’s kiss. I dunked each pillowy confection in thick, creamy milk and sank my teeth into each one with a tender bite. I ate slowly, methodically, tasting every bit of chocolate and cream, savoring the thin ganache that encased each cookie, teasing it a moment, before my teeth bit down on the caky middle. I let my tongue caress the deep, velvety goodness, closing my eyes to let the waves of goodness wash over me like a baptism before swallowing. I did this 12 times, until the box was empty. I sat back on my couch, experiencing the complete satisfaction of a job well done.

It felt so good. The act of eating, lingering over the sensation of each flavor. But the best thing about this was how unapologetic I was about eating it. I ate with relish and without moderation. I gave myself no disclaimers or caveats. I did not promise to eat a trough full of vegetables to balance out the devilish food. No. I simply ate the cookies and felt great, just great.

Growing up as a fat Black person in a thin family and a racist, fatphobic world, I grew up with a problematic relationship with food, to put it mildly. Eating certain foods often meant I was “good” or “bad.” I spent decades flagellating myself for the very human desire to enjoy food. Not that day. I ate the “bad” food slowly. I savored each piece. And I didn’t bargain with myself. In the past I might have stuffed the cookies into my mouth and then felt like I’d betrayed myself or, even more maddeningly, the “real me,” the skinny girl inside who was being crushed by the uncontrollable fat girl who couldn’t stop eating.

I’ve binged many times in my life. I remember once being 9 or 10 and fixating on a box of Nutrigrain bars. I was supposed to have one per day as a snack, but after having one I just had to go back and eat another. And then another. And soon the whole box was empty and I sat there in the dim light of the living room feeling sick with disgust and fear and wishing that just once I could control myself. Over the years my appetite became bigger, not smaller. I’ve binged on bagels, ice cream, candy, cake. Carbs have been my safe space, until they weren’t.

Over time my body has changed. The cast iron stomach I bragged about can barely take greasy food. I’m lactose intolerant. Too many sweets make me sick. These days I get full more easily.

But I still love food.

It’s a journey to wrestle with something you need to survive, but which you’ve been told not only makes you unattractive and unlovable, but will kill you.

These days I’m in the process of recalibrating my experience of food. I’d be lying if I said I had no desire to lose weight (just keeping it real), but I am officially done with dieting. I’m an adherent to intuitive eating and it works for me. I am here for eating a range of delicious food—fruit, veggies, grains, meat, you name it—and being unapologetic as fuck about it. After decades of war with myself, I now listen to my body and trust that I know how to nourish myself.

That day it that meant eating delicious cookies.

Till we meet again, chocolate marshmallow cookies. You’re in my heart forever.