Little Bits of Food — From a Former Obese Person
I wish I knew more about food growing up. I wonder if knowing more about food would have shortened the time it took to heal my relationship with food.
I grew up in the 90’s, born in the latter half of the 80’s. What I knew about nutrition was the food pyramid they taught us in school. Food idioms like an apple a day. And that there were kids starving in Africa. Those three factors made up my food bible — what to eat, what to eat to avoid the boogeyman, and guilt because there were so many people in the world of Africa whom had no food.
I questioned the apple a day thing because it seemed I lost all my baby teeth to apples. Soon as I went munch I heard crunch and then ow. At that moment I made the decision that food idioms were wrong.
I avoided vegetables like the plague. In my mind after learning about the food pyramid, as long as I avoided the dreaded tip of the top where the sugary stuff and fats were then I should be good. That wasn’t true. What I realized too late was I was taught limited nutrition at an age where I was either rebellious and questioned the truth behind all statements or rebellious and attempted to gather my own data to derive my own truths.
I wonder if nutrition had been taught again at a later time, like throughout high school, would I have received and retained information better.
My parents didn’t know about nutrition. What I learned about food at home was what they were taught about food back home in Peru — you eat what your parents cooked and you don’t leave the dinner table until it’s finished. What was passed down to me was to clean your plate. Not realizing that different bodies require different plate sizes and different eating schedules. But in other countries I assume death by food is the least of their worries. Except food, I found, makes up so much of our composition that it should be a high priority in any country.
We wake up and eat. Food has the power to energize us, calibrate our mood, heal our nervous systems — food is the reason why our relationships with people can crumble — food is why we can’t get out of our depressive state — food is why we feel unaccomplished with our career in life, with our effort to provide — food is the reason behind guilt and shame.
I learned in college the core of our human basic needs — to find food and to find shelter. To find food. It is so ingrained in us that if all else would disappear in the world we would be latching onto food as our means to barter and trade.
When we hear of bad weather coming we clean out the grocery stores and hoard cans of food, snacks, even packaged food we wouldn’t ever normally buy because we feel that just in case emergency feeling.
Food matters. Nutrition matters. And yet for something so important I knew so little about it growing up. I almost wish nutrition was taught to me more by either school or through my parents. I say almost because although the road to a healthy relationship with food has been long and winding for me, it has made me appreciate what I have learned. However, I know the world isn’t so lucky.
When August approaches, classes will start again for me. And one class in particular I am looking forward to — The Obesity Epidemic. I know that I am blessed to have learned as much as I do around nutrition and food and blessed to have healed my relationship with food and my body. Unfortunately, so many others have not been and are not so lucky.
And I wonder if there’s more we can do, share, exemplify with our own lives that might make a difference.
My name is Alicia Alcantara-Narrea but I write as Alicia Narrea. Growing up I never blamed my parents for not having the knowledge to educate me on food. However, my mother never accepted that as an excuse and reached out to our doctor for help. She sought out a nutritionist for me and made admirable attempts to change the course of food in our home. Today, I remember all that she had done for me. It was the beginning of looking at myself and owning up to my own responsibility behind food and nutrition. I love you Mom.
