The tenth thing you didn't know about me

The Truth about me Thursday is a 2012 recurring blog post
where I present one truth about myself.

Happy International Women's Day.
Today's post is, among other things, about being a woman.

If the previous "truth" post, the one that was about my 'drinking' habits, then I think I need to write one about my eating. Eating habits, that is.

It seems to me, that more and more people make some fuss about eating. One one hand it does make sense, since eating/drinking/excreting/breathing/sleeping/procreating are major facts of life. On the other hand, eating should be as easy as, well, breathing. Which our bodies manage to do autonomously.
Oh, part of our eating, the whole digestive-tract-catabolism-thing that's part of our metabolism, that's autonomous. And most of us don't think that much about it... except for us with allergies. Or stomach/digestive problems. Or those with digestive tract cancer. Oh well... there I really put my foot in my mouth.

But this wasn't what I thought I'd write about for todays post.

I wanted to adress my eating habits.

When I was still in primary school , I remember how my dad used to stock the fridge with snack for us kids to eat before dinner was put on the table. Much of it was processed, and microwave meals, and now that I think back on it all I'm not so surprised that I had bad acne and really difficult skin. No problems with my digestive tract though, or allergies. Those came later.

But I did love to eat. Food was nice, and since dad explicitly forbid us kids to "fix" stuff in the kitchen, it was one of the places I wanted to be.
Still is.

But there is something about the whole growing up-thing when you're a girl, and looking at my parents I guess I decided pretty early on that I didn't want to look like them when I got older. I'm not saying "fat", I'm telling you "overweight". And that is were young girls run into a whole mess of danger, growing up.

First, how would you feel is your father always complained of how little you ate at dinner? Because you didn't eat three (3!!!) whole plates like him? Especially if the food was mainly starch and fats and there was hardly ever any fresh salad on the table?

Secondly, if you see your mom trying to diet so that her knees would hold better, how does that make you as a girl feel about your own body?

Thirdly, how does it makes you feel when the most important thing in your family is creating food, but your gut (yes - a pun!) is telling you something with it is off?

No wonder I still skip meals then.

Didn't do it then, but started with it when I moved to Turku in 2001 to start my studies at Åbo Academy University. For the first time in my life I, and I alone!, was responsible for me being well fed. And it was heavenly. Not just because I could cook as much as I liked - but because I could choose when/what/where.

But, about skipping meals.

Sometimes, I do it just because there's nothing in the fridge, or because it would take too much time to make anything, or because we don't have enough fresh fruits, or.... there's a whole list of reasons.

But only one answer. "Because I don't feel it's too bad if I just skip a meal". It worries Micke, though.  Because he doesn't cook, so he thinks it's okay to take short cuts. Like making four sandwiches instead of dinner.

But it's like the joke:

I'm half-bulimic. I eat a lot, but then
I just forget to throw it all up afterwards.

That is a most terrible joke. But I do eat, with gusto, with a passion, really tasting the things I put in my mouth, and go to great lengths to make tasty meals. I'm a foodie, and I will never be anything else.
But I don't want to wake up when I'm 70 years old, wondering why I'm diabetic and overweight. I don't want to substitute dinner with snacks, and I don't need 3 plates to feel well fed.

It is suppose to feel as easy as breathing. But I guess, it's not. It looks like this thing with eating, it will haunt us all our whole lives through.