Everyone Is Hungry For Something

Note: I recognize that some hungers/cravings are not healthy, and can cause problems significant problems for the individual. This piece is not meant to advocate pursuing destructive urges. Also, for more information about mindful eating and identifying some of those other hungers, visit www.AmIHungry.com or my website.

What are you hungry for?

If your first thought was about food, that would make sense. That’s our most recognized craving, and it’s generally what people mean when they say, “I’m hungry.”

But maybe you really want something else. After all, as the character of Famine said in an episode of Supernatural, “Hunger doesn’t just come from the body, it comes from the soul.”

Which is why, when Famine (i.e., one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse) rolled into town, people didn’t only turn to food. In fact, it took a while for the main characters to sort out what was going on because the effects seemed so disconnected. People doing crazy things for love, drugs, alcohol, etc., as well as food.

Eventually Castiel, an angel, realized the truth when he started craving hamburgers – not the norm for a heavenly being.

Castiel: [This town is] suffering from hunger…, specifically famine.

Sam:     I thought famine meant starvation, like, as in, you know, food.

Castiel: Yes, absolutely, but not just food. I mean everyone seems to be starving for something. Sex, attention, drugs, love.

And those are just the really obvious and extreme cravings. I often have other, more subtle hungers. Solitude, connection with others, beauty, music, laughter, a feeling that I’m doing something meaningful with my life, and more.

In reality, we all have these deeper hungers, although we may not always recognize them. We may instead turn to food, mistaking these other needs for an empty stomach.

In part, that’s because hunger for food is expected, normal, and therefore safe to admit. We all have to eat if we want to survive, and hunger is part of that package.

Admitting to other desires, though, is not always something we want to do, especially if they’re destructive. Even more benign urges, though, aren’t always easy to admit. For instance, telling people that you crave sex, or really want attention, may bring unhappy results. And after all, we don’t need those other things to survive, right?

But is it only about survival? What if we want to truly live? 

For that, those other, non-destructive hungers may be just as necessary as the craving for food, and none of them should be overlooked.

Ignoring destructive urges can simply increase their power, whereas recognizing them may allow you to understand the drive behind it and address that underlying issue.

Ignoring more moderate desires isn’t much better, because then we run the risk of becoming like Dean (one of the main characters in Supernatural). He was immune to Famine’s presence, not because of any virtue or special nature, but because he had become dead inside. As a result, he no longer felt desire for anything.

But if we pay attention to our hunger, it can often lead us to find or rediscover what we truly love. Then, instead of having it become an overwhelming need, we can use it as a seasoning, making our lives richer, more vibrant and joyful.

So I ask again – what are you hungry for?

No More Apologies

Note: Last week I wrote about the idea of daring to be beautiful, and this week’s post resulted from thinking more about that and my relationship with my body.

I’ve decided. I’m done. No more apologies.

Ever since I started gaining weight around the age of 11, I’ve felt a nearly constant need to apologize for my body. In those early years, the apologies were for my layers and rolls of fat. I knew they were unsightly, and I felt awful at the idea that I inflicted this unappealing view onto the unsuspecting world. As a result, I tried as much as possible to hide in the background, even though hiding someone my size wasn’t terribly feasible.

Then, once I lost weight, I felt the need to apologize for not having a “perfect” body. I’ve often felt like an imposter in the sense that, while covered down to my knees and elbows and up to my collarbone, I look fine. But a bathing suit (even single suit – forget about a bikini) reveals loose skin and stretch marks, and still some flab. I’ve wondered if people think I’m pretty until they see me at the beach, and then they’re still disgusted.

But I’m not going to think that way anymore. I recognize that my body will never be smooth-skinned, long-limbed, showing only sculpted muscle and accented by bones. In reality, even had I never put on lots of weight, I never would have had that body – it’s simply not how I’m built.

What I can say is that some parts of my body are attractive, and even for the parts that aren’t (at least by our society’s standards), it doesn’t mean I need to feel guilty about them. I recognize that these marks are simply a reflection of my life. Parts of it have been very hard to be sure, but at the same time, it’s worth remembering that I got through those hard times. My body got through, too, and the scars and marks are reminders of that.

Which is why I’m done making excuses for how I look. I refuse to waste the time and energy anymore in composing elaborate apologies in my head to random strangers or even close friends and family. My body deserves better of me than that.

Instead, if I’m starting to feel self-conscious about what might be revealed, I will remember the journey that brought me here, and instead feel only joy that I survived it all and have come through stronger on the other side.

Do You Dare To Be Beautiful?

I recently saw a post on Facebook about an obese young woman taking revealing photographs of herself, with the words “Be beautiful” written on her body. I applaud her bravery, but I couldn’t help thinking, why does it require courage to think of ourselves as beautiful? Why does this seem like such a radical notion?

The reality is that we’re largely taught to look at ourselves critically. Facing our image in the mirror, we don’t think about what we like; we start listing the problems to be fixed. Thunder thighs, heavy underarms, cellulite, blotched skin, unsightly hair, chest too small (or too large) – the list is different for each person, but it can go on and on.

When I was heavy, I assumed that I’d be immune to this condemning approach once I lost weight. After all, isn’t thin the goal? Except it turns out that even those of us with an “acceptable” body weight and size often still feel that anguish of not being good enough, not being beautiful. The criticism in our heads doesn’t turn off when the scale hits a magic number.

It also seems like this is how we’re expected to be. It can almost become a competition, to say negative things about ourselves while assuring others that they look lovely. To break out of that pattern does require courage, to say to others and internally, “I like my body, and it’s beautiful.”

Yet this is the only way I’ve found to quiet those voices, by accepting my body as it is. This means ignoring what society tells me and instead acknowledging that this is me, this flesh and blood and bone, and it allows me to do and experience wonderful things.

When all you feel is ashamed and depressed by your body, though, accepting it is a challenge at best, impossible at the worst.

That’s why I’m daring you to consider what you find beautiful about your body. Maybe you want to start with small things – your eyes, perhaps, or your fingernails, your teeth or hair.

Or maybe approach it from another angle. For instance, recognize the beauty of your heart that keeps your blood pumping, or your ears for being able to hear music and laughter, or your lungs and diaphragm for enabling you to laugh.

Whatever your shape or size or ability, I hope that you take this challenge and find something of beauty in your body to celebrate, to cherish and remember in those harder moments. And please, dare to be beautiful!

Does Movement Bring Happiness or Soda?

“Movement is happiness.”

This is the theme behind Coca-Cola’s newest ad campaign as they attempt to refute concerns about the number of calories in soda. They seem to be saying that since movement equals happiness, you should be delighted to ride a bike for 23 minutes to preemptively burn off the 140 calories in a 12-ounce can of soda – thereby “earning” the drink. To prove this, the ad shows people riding a bike to carnival music, laughing while they attempt to get to the magical 140 calories that will reward them with their soda.

I’m not sold on this idea.

To be fair, I like the term movement, since it doesn’t have as much baggage or negative associations as exercise. I also believe that movement, among other things, can make people happy. So far, so good.

That being said, the type of activity varies from person to person. Let’s face it. For a lot of us, slender or otherwise, biking for 23 minutes is not the path to happiness. Coca-Cola may not have meant to force the idea of cycling, but it comes across that way to me.

Even ignoring that, I don’t like the approach of “earning” something to eat or drink. Does this mean that I need to exercise heavily before I consume 140 calories of anything? And if I don’t burn it off (before or after), the implication is that I’m bad, that I’ve cheated somehow and should feel guilty.

In that light, the cheery music and smiling people in the video suddenly seem very false. They’re only happy because they played by the rules, not because of the activity itself. It makes the video’s final question, “Where will happiness strike next?” feel hollow.

I think a more effective ad campaign equating movement with happiness would show people of all shapes and sizes moving in ways that they clearly enjoyed. For some, this might be biking, but it might also be running, playing with children (certainly my nephew keeps me hopping!), swimming, yoga, rock climbing, walking the dog, dancing to lively music, or any number of other things. And it wouldn’t have any tie-in to what you should eat or drink or how many calories you burn.

Admittedly, that might not work so well for selling soda. But it just might help remind people to think about their bodies as something joyful, something to feel good about. That would be far more revolutionary.

Would You Eat Part of a Cow's Stomach?

If you’re like me, the thought of eating tripe or anything made from a cow’s stomach generates an immediate shudder of revulsion. Ew! Why would I want to eat that? Yet in some places it’s very popular, and if I want to truly honor where my food is coming from, shouldn’t I support the use of all the parts of the cow, not just the choice cuts?

All of this ran through my mind when I decided to go to Florence and discovered that tripe is a favorite dish there, as is lampredotto (the difference is which stomach is used – tripe is white and comes from the first or second stomach, lampredotto is brown and comes from the fourth stomach). One of the things I love about travel is the chance to try different foods, but I wondered if this would be pushing it too far. Maybe I’d just stick with gelato.

Then I remembered that this is not the first time I’ve confronted food I thought I didn’t like. When I was a kid, I didn’t like lots of things: asparagus, Brussels sprouts (even though I don’t think I ever had them) fish, shrimp, really any seafood except for scallops, and more. Shrimp particularly unnerved me, because I had once gotten sick after eating some, and I assumed they would always make me sick. I stuck with foods that seemed safer – the fact that they were more fatty and sugary was an added bonus.

As I got older, though, and especially once I lost weight, my tastes changed. Sugar and fat no longer had such a draw on me, and things that were earthier, more bitter, sometimes became appealing. I started testing my assumptions and made some unexpected discoveries.

I love asparagus and Brussels sprouts! In fact, I like most vegetables, depending on preparation, although I still haven’t fallen in love with fiddleheads. Fish, too, is much more appealing, and I even like shrimp. But it took a great deal of courage for me to try shrimp again, and be objective about it, instead of simply deciding ahead of time I wouldn’t like it.

That’s when I realized that it wasn’t really fair to say that I disliked tripe without once giving it a try. Maybe I’d hate it, but how could I know that if I just judged it based on my automatic reaction and cultural expectations? And really, why is the thought of that so much worse than eating any other muscle of a cow, which I consume without flinching?

So when given the chance to try lampredotto as part of my food and wine tour, I gave it a shot. Not many people in our group did, so someone else got a few photos of me.

Taking my first bite

Trying to put aside my preconceptions and really focus on the food.

I liked it!

I never thought I’d say that: I enjoyed eating cow’s stomach. It’s not something I’d eat a lot, or go out of my way for; my cultural habits are still pretty heavily ingrained. But at least I gave it a try. 

As I thought about it, I realized that from that sense it was, in actuality, a great example of one aspect of mindful eating. I allowed myself to decide how I felt about it, instead of just being guided by other opinions, and I approached it with respect. Doing so gave me greater confidence in general about food, and how and what I choose to eat.

And that freedom, to eat the foods we love instead of what we’re told to love, in the amounts and times of our choosing – isn’t it worth a little risk?

Note: For more information about mindful eating, visit www.AmIHungry.com or my website.