I'm hungry, please feed me...

I have had a pretty screwed up relationship with food. I feared it. I refused it. I abused it. I was obsessed with it. I made a career of it. I cooked it for everyone but me. I didn't eat much of it. It was always a point of contention with the stbe (soon to be ex, remember?). I never felt comfortable eating in front of him. There were no midnight snacks, no ice cream runs, no food comas. He's the kinda guy that requires a fish fork and a separate plate for salad. He's the kinda guy that when asked by his soon to be ex wife who went to culinary school and was editor in chief of a food magazine "what would you like for dinner", he'd usually reply something like, something light... a salad, maybe some fruit salad. I don't know many men who would answer that way. Don't know many men who look to see where the fish fork is. Anyway, I married him long ago, and I am divorcing him now, so those things don't matter much any more. What matters is me, and how I have changed.

Like I said, I never was comfortable eating in front of him (the stretch for me was getting a medium frozen yogurt instead of a small... wow, really living now, huh?). It had to do, I see now, with feelings of self worth, self acceptance. But I was also just not comfortable showing him that I was hungry. OK, here comes the good part... I never wanted to show him I was hungry because I secretly knew, omg I can't believe I am putting this out there, HE COULDN'T SATISFY ME. So you see, it's not just the food. Food is love, and guess what... he just didn't feed my soul. He didn't rock my world. Shit man, all those years it was always, "that was good for you, right?". What an idiot. Me and him.

The above revelation has cost me upwards of $1000 in my therapists chair. She' s nice, smart, supportive, and now she has my money. That's not so nice because I would so much rather be using that money at Prada or La Perla. I digress...

So this crazy thing happened the first time around with Blue. A little aside first...
We had this rendez vous. I never in my wildest dreams imagined I would be doing what I did. BUT, and that's a big but, I did it, and I did it with all of me. I loved myself that day and shit, it was amazing. No self doubt, no self consciousness, all self assuredness, all self acceptance. lets just say that when all was said and done, my world was rocked. There was no need to ask "that was good for you, right?". Nope, it was more like, "are you conscious, how come you still can't move, blink twice if you need water".

Right, so after I regained consciousness, it was time for lunch. I had packed something. Something I had no intention of eating but the kind of thing I knew intuitively he'd like. We're Italian so I had proschiutto (pork!), buffalo mozzerella (full fat dairy!), semolina bread (white carbs!), olives (FAT!), torrone (eek! simple carbs and nuts!), figs ( planned on eating those) and melon (yeah, planned to eat that too!). My plan had been to sit there and watch him wolf it all down while I nibbled a fig and looked enticing.

Here's what happened: there was a fight over food. Me versus him. 5 feet 2 inches versus 6 feet 4 inches. He was hungry. I won. I actually got involved in hand to hand combat over the buffalo mozzerella. And when I won, I wrapped the biggest pillowy piece of it in decadent, salty, yummy proschiutto. Then I repeated with the melon and proschiutto. A few olives. I need a fig, with more cheese... OMG, Manna from heaven. Well, use your imagination about what followed. A hint: we were both hungry again after.

That's when I knew. Knew for certain that something had been wrong for a long time. I knew it subconsciously. And I suppose part of me expected to find what I did or else I wouldn't have taken the leap. You know, when you sorta know but you just gotta be super positive sure. But that day, when I saw my physical reaction to him and my mental reaction to all that had transpired... That day, after I regained consciousness and ate lunch and lost consciousness again...well, I realized that there was no going back to fish forks and fruit salad.

We're not yet at the point where I can ask him what he wants for dinner, but we'll get there. What I can say is that I've been cooking like crazy and eating like I haven't eaten in 12 years. Which isn't so far from the truth.
I made lasagna last week. Practically lost consciousness.

Thanks Blue.