What Diet? : A Thought or Two by SD Smith
What Diet? : A Thought or Two by SD Smith
I’m not a clean person. I like to clean things, and I like when things are clean, but I am still not a clean person. I’m not a skinny person, either. (cut) See? I have fat. (cut) But I’ve struggled with weight issues the majority of my life. That’s actually why I’m larger. I over-exercised and under-ate as a child. Now, it’s not easy for me to lose weight.
Luckily, I’m not sixteen, anymore. I’ve come to a point in my life when being larger and being messy are not such large point of contention in my life, anymore. I’m not perfect. I still compete with myself from time to time to eat healthier, but I’ve decided that that just isn’t my focus. . I could wallow about my weight or my monetary situation, or my ability to access certain items in my house, but I’ve decided to do something different. It’s not a new concept, and some people may just refer to it as, “the pursuit of health—y,” but I’m going to name it “The What Diet?”.
The What Diet is not nutritionist recommended. I am no medical physician. Health is obviously not my expertise, but this concept is a big part of what makes me happy, and for all of the people I know, happy tends to be somewhere on the top of the list of things they wish for. I’m not always happy, either, but I’m happy with myself. I’m glad I am who I am. Sometimes I struggle with the What I Am, but Who is doing okay. The What Diet gives me groundwork for being happy.
Basically, it’s this: I eat what I want, when I want, how I want, with who I want, without personally imposed limitations. Obviously, if I can’t afford it, I won’t eat it; but if I can, I already ate it. I wanted chocolate peanut butter cups, tonight. I have $20 left for 4 days of food. I bought just over $2 of peanut butter, because it made me happier to not want them anymore.
I had trouble with bulimia and anorexia as a teenager. Like any teenager, it was not my finest hour. I was acting out against myself, because bullies and magazines and teachers and doctors told me that my weight was a problem I had and I believed them, accordingly. I tried to control this situation by doing something that everyone said was worse than being fat. I stopped eating, then I ate too much until I got sick, then I threw it all up. It wasn’t pretty, and I eventually found myself anemic, curled up in a ball in front of the front door, crying and screaming to my mother that I was in pain, and that I couldn’t diet anymore. I got help, I got better, and eventually, I got here, ten years later. It was a lot longer process than I realized it could ever be to recover, and understand what it meant to stay in recovery forever.
For me, rebellion was the only thing that would ultimately save me. If I rebelled against the bullies, they could no longer hurt me. If I rebelled against my parents, they would learn that well-intentioned attempts to make me healthier were evidently hurting my psyche, and I was taking their words the wrong way, so I needed their help to stop that from happening. If I stopped reading books on nutrition and listening to teachers who told me not to show my bra straps, I would eventually break free and become a self-sufficient, well balanced human being—I’m still working on that last part, and I may never achieve it, fully.
The What Diet embodies these notions of self-sufficiency. It says, “I’m good enough a judge of my own food intake.” It nods to the age old idea of gluttony being a sin of greed and food, politely, and turns away. It looks that apple dead in the eye, and remembers that an apple a day could cause diabetes. If it doesn’t keep the doctor away, then maybe the doctors are still wrong about some things. Maybe I’m okay with getting cancer in a couple decades if it means that I eat something that we’ll find out causes it indirectly, tomorrow. Maybe I’m okay with not exercising every day, because diabetes or high cholesterol may be my problem five years down the road. I know for a fact that I could also lose my ability to walk if I carelessly over-exercised every day. Maybe the health that I’m looking for is a health in my mind. Maybe my body is 200 pounds. Maybe that’s a good thing. Yeah, it was REALLY cool to be 155 2 years ago, but I don’t want to BE my weight anymore. Like, I am not fat, I have a fatter belly than socio-philosophical ideologies of my time and place designate acceptable. I don’t have the time, or energy, or support from my peers, or security to be left alone that I did 2 years ago. I would LOVE to dance every night, in public, without people following me home, and wake up for work on time the next day, if I could, but I can’t, and I don’t want to get hypothermia 4 times this year. Learning about Michael Jackson’s contribution to the world of hip hop at 3 AM and 32° is not the way I want to have my dancing appreciated, now, or then for that matter. It’s also harder to find new and inspiring music, these days.
What I do like is sitting at home, watching videos and shows and movies on my computer. I like being inspired by the Tiny House movement. I like flirting with the idea of Minimalism while comfortably being surrounded by a somewhat dysfunctional Maximalist lifestyle. I like remembering the I’m White, Jewish, Female, Pagan, Agnostic, grew-up-in-a-trailer-park-but-I’m-not-white-trash, Child of Divorce, who went to amazing schools and got to seize the opportunity of transferring multiple times, carless, creative, architecture-loving, nature-loving, culture-loving, spastic individual affected and effecting all of these descriptor about myself. I’m curious and suspicious and caring and hopeful. I don’t want kids and most of the time, not even a romantic relationship. I like my friends and their physical presence, monthly. I like beautiful things and ugly things. I like tension and balance. I don’t like them together unless it’s art. I like food and feeling healthy. I’m not Mexican or Native American or Chinese or Japanese or Christian, but I love the affect that people who identify with those heritages have had on my life. I am sentimental for things that were not part of my families history. Saving face, and honoring nature, respecting myself are not things my family taught me. Chilaquiles, and pizza, and sushi, and tea, and day-old-broccoli-beef-from-the-counter, and tofu, and corn are some of my favorite foods. I am addicted to caffeine, and I like the effect it has on me. I’m full off of 2 peanut butter cups and a soft drink, right now, and someone, my age, down the street is starving, and there’s another someone across the world who can’t find water, and the world is messed up enough that even doing something about it may never help and that’s sad, but if I can do one thing in my life for me, it’s going to be happy. So, What Diet?
