When Food Is (Was) Love

I was snacking on some tortilla chips today and remembering how when I was a kid I used to love finding the chips that were folded in half. I called them “chip tacos” and they were just kind of extra special for me. I took a particular pleasure in eating them.

I loved food when I was a kid. Food was how people took care of me. Especially my grandma, who would always make special meals for me when I was spending the night with her and grandpa. That was one of the ways I knew she loved me.

And then I started thinking about when I was a teenager and started being put on diets. My mom and my grandma both wanted me to go on Weight Watchers. I remember being aware that they were following the program themselves, but I just didn’t want to. I don’t think I understood exactly why until just today.

The kinds of diets I went on punished me for eating. But food was how my mom and grandma took care of me. It was one of the ways they showed love. Trying to change that didn’t feel like love. I didn’t feel like they were trying to improve my health. It just felt like they were withholding love. Because I had gotten fat. So I did something wrong, and now they didn’t love me. At least, not the way they used to. It feels like such an exaggeration even to write that down. But considering the feelings are still there, 40 years later, means maybe there’s at least a grain of truth in there somewhere.

People use food to show love all the time, which creates a core conflict when it comes to maintaining a healthy…