Reminded by ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
meri_sefket here on my DW f-list:
Privilege check: I'm thin, small-boned (little Asian woman), and was lucky enough to not only get a good metabolism but also a healthy body and no intolerances or major allergies in the genetic lottery. I grew up in a middle-to-upper-income household where food - and tasty, fresh, healthy food - was cooked almost every night.
In my family, take-away or 'eating out' (fast food eating out) was rare. Eating at restaurants (Chinese, usually, sometimes steakhouses) was a special occasion, for Sundays after church, or family gatherings, or when we were on holidays.
My mother cooked every night. She was a stay-at-home mum until I was about seven, and worked part-time until I was at least fourteen. So she cooked us dinner - a sit-down, table dinner with dishes and plates and portions and everything. And she could cook! Could she ever cook! (Let me tell you about the friend who helped me move from Sydney to Wollongong - I paid him in dinner, and Mum pulled out all the stops. Ten years later, he still remembers that meal and drools.) My Mum can still cook, mind. She's just a lot more careful these days, since my stepdad has health considerations with his gout and cholesterol. (That doesn't stop him from cooking roasts on a semi-regular basis. Or beef wellington once in a blue moon. Oh, man. MY STEPDAD'S BEEF WELLINGTON. YUM.)
So yes, food is an important part of my life. My childhood is full of food memories. Good memories involving food. Memories of good food. Associations of food with family and celebrations and guests and special occasions...
When I was in my teens, I remember my mother going through a series of diets - which for us meant eating certain combinations of things and not others, not limiting our food intake. She'd have had a riot on her hands if that was the case - my sisters and I like our food. And still do. I can't remember which diets they were, but there were ones where you couldn't mix meat and breads/rices/carbs and ones where you had portion control and...oh, stuff. Meat Those came and went for a couple of years with irregular success, and then I left home and went to uni. As far as I'm concerned, the diets stopped then. My sisters might say otherwise - they lived with Mum until she remarried and moved out, and I moved back in with them.
These days, Mum doesn't bother with the diet plan, although she makes the conscious effort to have more vegies and fruit since my stepdad is a "real men don't eat quiche" kinda guy.
At home, the sistren and I all tend to provide for ourselves regarding lunches and dinners. Our schedules are all over the shop, so it's easier that way. B2 probably has the most fast food of the three of us, and B1 is the most food-conscious because she's got lactose and gluten issues (I can't remember if it's intolerance or allergies - whichever is the lesser. It won't kill her, it just makes her feel sick.) I don't really watch what I eat - and if I do, it's mostly because too much of some things make me feel a bit iffy - more than one cup of milk a day, too much processed breads and grains, etc., make me feel nauseous. What I do instead, is consider how much of it I eat.
My uncle has an eating plan: he eats until he's 80% full. Then he stops. He lets his body dictate how much it needs, not his mind. Which is a good idea for someone like me, since my eyes are way bigger than my stomach. (So much food; so little stomach space!) And fifteen minutes after I've left the table having eaten to 80% full, I'm full for real and it's all good.
We think of the term "diet" in terms of 'food limitation' - the noun of the verb "to diet" (my English grammar skills are questionable; please excuse any errors), when it also means 'food consumption' - what we eat.
My cat's diet is a special kibble that's good for her teeth and gums and limited to 75 pieces a day (give or take). My co-worker's diet is tea and potato chips and cheese sandwiches (at least when he's at work). My diet is meat and fish, green leafy vegies and fruit - both raw and cooked, whole grains and rices - brown and white, with some cake, chocolate, sugary sweets, and potato chips.
And you know what? All of it tastes delish. I wouldn't eat something that I didn't like just because it was "healthy".
I happen to love stuff that's generally considered good for the body, and I eat lots of it because it makes me feel good and doesn't stuff my body up - which contributes to the feeling of the good. I happen to love stuff that's generally considered not-so-good for the body, and I tend to eat smaller amounts of that because it tastes great in the mouth, but glugs up my gullet if I have too much which then doesn't contribute to the feeling of the good.
Ultimately, I think we should eat to feel good - as in happy, as in healthy, as in physically comfortable, sensually pleased, satisfied. Taste is a sense, and food should be enjoyed, savoured, delighted in, not used as a weapon with which to beat ourselves.
I fully intend to enjoy my food today, and every other day of my life.
And that's my philosophy of diet.[*]
[*]Not 'dieting' but 'diet'.
Happy International No-Diet Day!
meri_sefket here on my DW f-list:Privilege check: I'm thin, small-boned (little Asian woman), and was lucky enough to not only get a good metabolism but also a healthy body and no intolerances or major allergies in the genetic lottery. I grew up in a middle-to-upper-income household where food - and tasty, fresh, healthy food - was cooked almost every night.
In my family, take-away or 'eating out' (fast food eating out) was rare. Eating at restaurants (Chinese, usually, sometimes steakhouses) was a special occasion, for Sundays after church, or family gatherings, or when we were on holidays.
My mother cooked every night. She was a stay-at-home mum until I was about seven, and worked part-time until I was at least fourteen. So she cooked us dinner - a sit-down, table dinner with dishes and plates and portions and everything. And she could cook! Could she ever cook! (Let me tell you about the friend who helped me move from Sydney to Wollongong - I paid him in dinner, and Mum pulled out all the stops. Ten years later, he still remembers that meal and drools.) My Mum can still cook, mind. She's just a lot more careful these days, since my stepdad has health considerations with his gout and cholesterol. (That doesn't stop him from cooking roasts on a semi-regular basis. Or beef wellington once in a blue moon. Oh, man. MY STEPDAD'S BEEF WELLINGTON. YUM.)
So yes, food is an important part of my life. My childhood is full of food memories. Good memories involving food. Memories of good food. Associations of food with family and celebrations and guests and special occasions...
When I was in my teens, I remember my mother going through a series of diets - which for us meant eating certain combinations of things and not others, not limiting our food intake. She'd have had a riot on her hands if that was the case - my sisters and I like our food. And still do. I can't remember which diets they were, but there were ones where you couldn't mix meat and breads/rices/carbs and ones where you had portion control and...oh, stuff. Meat Those came and went for a couple of years with irregular success, and then I left home and went to uni. As far as I'm concerned, the diets stopped then. My sisters might say otherwise - they lived with Mum until she remarried and moved out, and I moved back in with them.
These days, Mum doesn't bother with the diet plan, although she makes the conscious effort to have more vegies and fruit since my stepdad is a "real men don't eat quiche" kinda guy.
At home, the sistren and I all tend to provide for ourselves regarding lunches and dinners. Our schedules are all over the shop, so it's easier that way. B2 probably has the most fast food of the three of us, and B1 is the most food-conscious because she's got lactose and gluten issues (I can't remember if it's intolerance or allergies - whichever is the lesser. It won't kill her, it just makes her feel sick.) I don't really watch what I eat - and if I do, it's mostly because too much of some things make me feel a bit iffy - more than one cup of milk a day, too much processed breads and grains, etc., make me feel nauseous. What I do instead, is consider how much of it I eat.
My uncle has an eating plan: he eats until he's 80% full. Then he stops. He lets his body dictate how much it needs, not his mind. Which is a good idea for someone like me, since my eyes are way bigger than my stomach. (So much food; so little stomach space!) And fifteen minutes after I've left the table having eaten to 80% full, I'm full for real and it's all good.
We think of the term "diet" in terms of 'food limitation' - the noun of the verb "to diet" (my English grammar skills are questionable; please excuse any errors), when it also means 'food consumption' - what we eat.
My cat's diet is a special kibble that's good for her teeth and gums and limited to 75 pieces a day (give or take). My co-worker's diet is tea and potato chips and cheese sandwiches (at least when he's at work). My diet is meat and fish, green leafy vegies and fruit - both raw and cooked, whole grains and rices - brown and white, with some cake, chocolate, sugary sweets, and potato chips.
And you know what? All of it tastes delish. I wouldn't eat something that I didn't like just because it was "healthy".
I happen to love stuff that's generally considered good for the body, and I eat lots of it because it makes me feel good and doesn't stuff my body up - which contributes to the feeling of the good. I happen to love stuff that's generally considered not-so-good for the body, and I tend to eat smaller amounts of that because it tastes great in the mouth, but glugs up my gullet if I have too much which then doesn't contribute to the feeling of the good.
Ultimately, I think we should eat to feel good - as in happy, as in healthy, as in physically comfortable, sensually pleased, satisfied. Taste is a sense, and food should be enjoyed, savoured, delighted in, not used as a weapon with which to beat ourselves.
I fully intend to enjoy my food today, and every other day of my life.
And that's my philosophy of diet.[*]
[*]Not 'dieting' but 'diet'.
Happy International No-Diet Day!