Calories eaten in secret don’t count, right? We all know that isn’t true, but we sure savor that chocolate bar a little different when no one is around. It’s not that I don’t have to share it – if that was the case I would just buy two. It is about being free from the shame of something I know isn’t good for me.
I know you all have a healthy relationship with food, so you will surely judge me when I tell you what I am about to tell you. I love chips. Really, I love the flavor of chips. When I reach into the bag, I reach with my eyes and my hands, looking for the chip with the most seasoning on it. During times in my life where I have tried to eat better, chips have always been a temptation for me. I crave them. I want the flavor, but not the calories. So at night, when everyone is asleep, I go to the pantry and grab the bag of chips. Then, I sit on the couch, and I carefully savor all of the seasoning on the chip, and then toss the tortilla in the trash. When I am done, I make sure to bury the evidence deep in the garbage can so no one will know. It’s shameful. I know.
Unlike many things that we do in secret, addiction or an unhealthy relationship with food becomes evident on our waistlines (or lack thereof). What we do in secret is obvious to everyone. Who do we think we are kidding? No one is looking at me saying, “Wow, she must eat a lot of fish and carrots.” So why do I snack when my family is asleep?
Sneaking food started when I was young. The first time I recall sneaking food was when I was five. My sister and I had a baby sitter while my mom worked the night shift at a local bar. We didn’t really know the lady, but she seemed nice enough. Tina and I would sleep on the couch in the living room until Mom came to get us, usually around 3am. The lady fed us, but never enough. We weren’t comfortable enough to ask for seconds, so we waited her out at bed time. She and her husband would go down the hall to bed, and when the snoring started, Tina and I would tiptoe to the refrigerator, open it slowly, and quietly sneak lunch meat from the shelf. We were just hungry kids in a stranger’s home.
Food wasn’t consistent in my home. Sometimes we had a lot of good food (not good for you), and sometimes we didn’t have much and we went hungry. When the good food came, you had to eat it before someone else did, whether you were hungry or not. I lived with my mom, then my dad, sometimes at Grandma’s house, sometimes with an aunt. We bounced around a lot, and I never wanted to feel like a burden, so I ate just enough at meal times, then pilfered the cupboards after everyone fell asleep. Sneaking food was a habit born out of necessity, for survival.
I am no longer five, and I no longer have to sneak food to maintain my two hundred and twenty pounds. But that five year old is still in me, sneaking around when the lights go out. And she will continue to control me until I confront her.
I have often wondered what that baby sitter would have done if she had caught us in the refrigerator at midnight. In my five-year-old mind, I could see her, finger pointed at us, saying, “You girls better get out of my fridge. You ungrateful little heathens! Your mother is going to have to find a new baby sitter.”
And then, I think about my five year old nephew, Luke, or even my twelve year old niece, Clara. If I woke up in the middle of the night and one of them was in my refrigerator, I would turn on the light, open the cupboards, and ask them if they wanted me to make them a snack. I would not shame them, or yell at them, or tell them they could never come back.
I give because I know what it’s like to be without. To long for and be ignored; to speak and not be heard; to care for and have nothing returned. When I give it’s because I know the value in what I have in my heart. And I refuse to let the world stop me from sharing that.
Rob Hill
So, tonight, I want to confront that little girl who ate stolen ham on a stranger’s couch in the middle of the night. Not with my finger pointed, but with my arms open. I want her to know that she doesn’t have to sneak, and she doesn’t have to hide, and that it is normal to be hungry if you’ve not been properly nourished. I want to tell her that she can have a little more at dinner, if she is hungry, and she can go to sleep full. She doesn’t have to stay up and wait everyone in the house out to fill her stomach to excess. That food in the fridge isn’t going anywhere, and if someone else eats the good stuff, I can take her to the store and get more.
Today, I just want that little girl to know that she doesn’t have to hide.
Uncommonly Common Mom 