I am a terrible excuse for a female. I burp, fart, spit massive loogies and have feet like wrecking balls. I rarely wear makeup, I loathe high heels and my legs are often in that unkempt stubble phase. Basically I’m a pair of Birkenstocks and a pixie cut away from full blow lesbian status. But worst of all my unfeminine characteristics: I eat…a lot.
I clean my plate at every meal and usually am looking for seconds. In fact, if you leave your plate unguarded I might go for that too. In a world where women are supposed to be starving and thin I break the norm. I’m sorry, but I can’t help that I can put food away. And when I say food I mean real “manly” food: burgers off the grill, Italian subs, deep dish pizza, hot wings, baby back ribs with French fries and nachos-you name it I’ll eat it. I refuse to apologize for the fact that I’m always freakin’ hungry. I have a ravenous appetite. I haven’t felt full since the summer of ’91. If you ever hear me say, “I’m not hungry.” Don’t call the doctor because I’m not sick; call the priest because I’m fuckin’ dying!
I constantly see women eating salad for lunch. They pick at their plates tossing around cucumbers and uncooked carrots in fat free balsamic dressing with empty, unsatisfied eyes. I cannot understand this. Are they eating salad and sipping water for lunch because they’re craving roughage or are they afraid of breaking the social norm that women should eat like rabbits?
We women have been told since the Victorian era about the dangers of indulgent and over stimulating eating. Victorian women kept conduct manuals that advised on how to “consume in a feminine way,” meaning as little as possible and with the utmost precaution against improper show of desire. In other words, do not load your plate, do not clean your plate and do not go back for seconds. These food rules for women don’t just pertain to the Victorian era though; today the same warnings appear about food in advertisements all over TV and magazines. Green Teas that suppress appetite, pre-portioned Weight Watchers meals, shakes that replace meals and then pills that help you shit out those meals. Denying oneself food has become the central micro-practice in the education of female self-restraint and containment of impulse. We are taught that the less you consume the better woman you are.
I’ve experienced this truth in my own life. At family dinners for example, when I reach for seconds I’m met with judgmental eyes and silence, but when my boyfriend reaches for seconds he’s met with praise and the always encouraging “Please, eat more! It’s just going to go bad if you don’t eat it!” Really!? If that’s the case then why can’t I eat it too without feeling shameful?
Episodes like these just make me want to slam a sleeve of Oreos and a pint of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch in the privacy of my own bed while crying on into my body pillow, not eat less! The more we suppress the worse we feel and I’m tired of it.
I’m tired of hearing women apologize for what they want to eat. I’m tired of women feeling guilty for simply striving to quench their appetites and feed their body what it’s craving. I’m sick of women thinking they have to eat salads when out for lunch in public so they won’t feel self-conscious around the disapproving eyes of strangers. I’m sick of women being ashamed to go back for seconds, eat desert, have a piece of bread and on and on and on.
Why can’t we all just be sorry excuses for females and eat what are body is craving be it a garden salad or a chili cheese dog. Wouldn’t listening to our bodies save us a lot of unnecessary desire, forced restraint and private binges? My hope is to learn to listen to my body and not the stupid, social rules and expectations of everyone else. Right now my body is telling me it wants a vanilla soy latte and a cinnamon scone. :)
