Healthy Food, Toxic Comments

Throughout our lives, food is such a large topic. We spend over 3 and a half years of our
lives just eating and drinking. Food represents our culture, can affect our mood, helps us
connect with people, and provides us with the energy we need to get through the day. While
multifunctional and great, it can also be the source of anxiety for many people including myself.
The choice of what to eat, where, how much, and with whom is something we have to decide on
every day, and oftentimes that choice is judged by others.

As a kid my mom was (and continues to be) supportive in every aspect. When my
siblings and I were younger she tried to give us the tools we needed to make the right choice for
ourselves. Much of her teaching was a sort of trial and error where she wanted to give us room
to make our own meals but then helped us learn what we did well and what we needed to adjust
in giving our bodies nutrition. We were taught to eat our veggies, what proteins looked like,
when carbs were appropriate, what foods were beneficial for us, and more. We were also taught
what foods ​weren’t ​healthy for us like soda, candy, too many servings-pretty much teaching us
not to give in to every impulse we had as kids. The lesson was never telling us that we couldn’t
eat something, but instead teaching us to be healthy and make conscious decisions about our
food.

With all of this, I felt that I was healthy. I ate my veggies, didn’t have the fruit snacks
loaded with high fructose corn syrup, and food coloring in my lunch box, and I didn’t sit in front
of the TV for hours a day like the kids I went to school with did. I played outside, did dance,
gymnastics, soccer, and baseball, I played an instrument and spent little to no time in front of a
screen since I didn’t even have a phone or tablet until middle school. Even with all of this, I was
still bigger than other kids, and oh how I was made aware of this. I didn’t care about what I
looked like until the comments started piling on. I was told I was mature, big, had fat legs, and
more. Girls would compare their ankle to my wrist. Their tiny legs that made me wonder how
they supported their bodies, were suddenly better than mine. I wore skirts and shorts and
people would make fun of me when I sat down. I stopped wearing clothes that showed my bare
legs, didn’t wear skinny jeans, didn’t like fitted clothes, and became self-conscious when it came
time to wear a swimsuit. Even my close relatives told me to “suck in”, which became a toxic
habit I kept with me daily. I didn’t understand any of it really. Why, when I ate healthily, was
happy, and spent the majority of my time outside or being creative, was my body suddenly not
reflecting that? Why didn’t I look like the other girls? Why could they have chips and snacks and
sugary things in their lunch boxes, but I couldn’t? Most of all, why did they think I was worth less
than them because of my size?

This all led me to pick apart a lot of things about myself, sometimes not having anything
to do with my size. I was self-conscious and shy, and I didn’t want to eat in front of people
anymore because I felt like if they saw me eat a birthday treat or something sweet, that would
be the blame of why I was bigger than them, and that would give them the right to call me
names. On top of this, although I am privileged, my family is big and my mom is a teacher, so
there was no abundance of money. This led us to have fast food every once in a while, not only
because it is cheaper but also because it takes less time for a busy family, and it is easier when
we can’t all eat together because of school or sports. Instead of forgiving myself for eating this
since I was eating healthily the majority of the time, I became frustrated by it but ultimately had
no control over dinner since I wasn’t the one paying or cooking and dealing with the mess that
comes from making food.

Although I felt distraught by what I should and should not eat, how I should make myself
look to others, and was obsessed with trying to find excuses for why I looked how I did, I never
lost my connection with food. It tasted good, it made me feel happy, and it kept my body going.
“Junk” food, although not healthy, was eaten when I was with others; it was celebrating a
birthday, crying with a friend, an after school snack, a summer weekend treat. Slowly I started to
forgive myself for what I was eating, and accepted the fact that I needed to love myself and
understand my body and food before I judged. I learned about food, nutrition, and how to tell
when to eat which lent a hand in accepting and appreciating myself.

I looked out on my journey to self-love. I cut out the negative comments and invited
positive ones. I found new people to influence me, all whom spread the same message; love
yourself, love others, take care of your body, and find happiness. I saw healthy bodies of all
shapes and sizes, bigger and smaller than mine. This helped me to reflect on myself and see
that our goal in life isn’t to be the same size or look identical. Our goal is to find happiness and
enjoy ourselves. Food is a large part of our society and way of life, and to hate what our bodies
need to thrive is anything but productive or the source of my happiness.

My food ethic never has been (and likely never will be) eating healthily 24/7 with a strict
diet. I want to enjoy food. As an adult I want to go try new restaurants, travel and eat food,
discover new recipes, and not be obsessive over my weight. That has been a journey of
acceptance I have been going through for years, and I don’t want my entire life to consist of
comparing myself to others. I have realized that a happy heart, mind, and body are just as
important as a healthy one, and in that, both should influence my food ethic.