Posted by Sophie Westrope on June 7, 2014 · Leave a Comment
I’VE never had the best relationship with grub. From a young age I had nightly battles with my Mother over the food she put in front of me. And it wasn’t that any particular meal tasted bad or was grotesque, I just simply didn’t want to eat it. I didn’t like to chew meat; steak is still out of the question even now. Something about chewing on a tough piece of animal flesh just does not appeal to me.
I couldn’t stand things like ham, spam or even the jelly on corned beef. One minute I’d go crazy for marmalade, the next day the texture of the spread would turn my stomach. Even now I won’t eat mushrooms, no matter how finely chopped, because my tongue somehow remembers the slimy texture and rejects them entirely.
Too many times have I tried to suffer through a set menu at a wedding reception, family get-together or ‘first time meeting the boyfriend’s parents’ meal, where simple meals like bangers and mash have been served up to me and I’ve grimaced inwardly at the dreaded thought that the sausages might be cumberland or Lincolnshire – some kind of food memory has shocked me into detesting the herbs and spices packed in those skins.
When we were little and entitled to free school meals I’d stand in the dinner line, palms sweating, fingers twitching as I held my tray and waited with baited breath to see that day’s selection of slimy congealed food. I remember one particularly harrowing event when the reheated delights included ravioli, steak and kidney pie or gammon; three of my food hells. I cried so hysterically that my older sister had to leave her table at the other side of the hall and rush over to beg the dinner ladies to just give me three scoops of cheesy mashed potato instead. Thankfully they obliged and sent me on my way, still sniffling.
But still today I can’t even look at a tin of spam or ravioli without shuddering. Call me ungrateful but I just can’t stand some of the meals that others adore. There is no explanation really as to why. I just don’t like it. The general response to finding out that I don’t eat steak, pork, or lamb is always the same: that of sheer and utter shock and disgust. “How can you not love steak?!” they ask with disdain and bewilderment.
When I write it down there are only a handful of meats I will eat: minced beef, my Mum’s roast beef, sausage meat but only in meatloaf and stuffing (again made by my Mum), sausages sans any kind of foreign flavouring (think plain Basic supermarket range, mostly breadcrumb, very bad for you casings of fat or Irish sausages which I will allow because they make great bangers!) and then only chicken and turkey from the land of poultry and selected fish and other things which come from the sea.
Carbs, however, have always been my friend.. And now my mortal enemy. They cling to me. They’re glued to my inner thigh, to the spare tyre I wear around my waist and hips and the jiggle and added junk in my ever-growing trunk. Sugars and other naughty things have never been a problem. Salt, again is a big favourite. But equally fruit and vegetables are all my pals.
When I put it all into perspective, after an eating disorder at the age of thirteen used as an attempt to control a drastic life change, the endless junk food binges I’ve indulged in after yet another breakup or breakdown, I’ve never done things by half where food is concerned. For something I don’t like that much, I sure know how to use and abuse it when I want to.
As I grow older I think less of how things taste and more about how beneficial to my body they may be; about how much fuel they’ll give me, whether they’re ‘healthy’ for me or whether they’ll make me feel lethargic or bloated. It’s less about what food does to my outsides and more about what I can consume to look after my insides as best I can.
I need to find a way to enjoy food again. I need to find a way to make it exciting again. Lunchtime needs to become less of a chore and more of a delight. Years and years of a carb and sugar heavy uni diet has depleted my body and I may be in need of nutritional help in order to finally put an end to torturing myself where food is concerned..
Right after this doughnut.