Food control
ForeverFighting
Registrant
Sinking brought up something that I've been thinking about for a long time. Why is it about food?
My great-grandparents on my dad's side were ultimate control freaks, evidently. At least, that what I heard. My great-aunt was anorexic and lived on tiny amounts of food, literally a walking skeleton until she died in her 70s. She was a great lady whom I really liked. Her brother, my grandpa, did the opposite. He wasn't fat, but he stuffed food into people. And if my dad was in the room, his parents would force him to eat and eat until he was in pain. His running gag was that he eats too much, he'll eat anything, and consequently he's been way overweight and had heart problems most of his life. (His brother went vegetarian--tofu and grains.)
I went the way of my great-aunt. I never ate everything on my plate--still don't. Leaving something shows I have control. And now, especially if my dad's around, I won't eat it all, and I won't let him have it. It's like a secret joy to make him watch me throw away food. But I must have control. My dad ate so much that, as a kid, I'd lose half my plate to him. I'd barely get started and he'd ask, "Are you going to eat that?" Dare I say Yes? No. He'd take it from me. My mom wouldn't cook much, so we had to fend for ourselves. Now, I actually panic if there's nothing to eat. It's like I have to plan ahead, and if it seems like there won't be any, I obsess about that. There has to be more than enough--an extra box of cereal, plenty of milk. But when it comes down to it, I won't eat much. I would easily be vegetarian just because I can. I'll go fat free or health nut, and if I do eat a burger with a load of fries, I feel guilty. When I got married, I was about 50 pounds underweight. I've gained to about normal, but it's still an issue or I wouldn't be writing about it here.
So why food? Why did some of our parents make it about food to begin with? What does that have to do with abuse?
Of course, that wasn't all my dad controlled. We were only allowed 3 squares of TP, the towels had to be hung a certain way, the car couldn't be started until everyone was in it and buckled, and if my sister or me had to go there was a jar in the car. If you've seen "Sleeping With The Enemy", the husband in that movie was my dad. I guess, as a kid, we control what we can. I'd get hit if I broke the other rules, and from what some of the guys here have said, they'd get hit over food too, but maybe food was something I could have a secret control over. The one thing I could keep from entering my body.
My great-grandparents on my dad's side were ultimate control freaks, evidently. At least, that what I heard. My great-aunt was anorexic and lived on tiny amounts of food, literally a walking skeleton until she died in her 70s. She was a great lady whom I really liked. Her brother, my grandpa, did the opposite. He wasn't fat, but he stuffed food into people. And if my dad was in the room, his parents would force him to eat and eat until he was in pain. His running gag was that he eats too much, he'll eat anything, and consequently he's been way overweight and had heart problems most of his life. (His brother went vegetarian--tofu and grains.)
I went the way of my great-aunt. I never ate everything on my plate--still don't. Leaving something shows I have control. And now, especially if my dad's around, I won't eat it all, and I won't let him have it. It's like a secret joy to make him watch me throw away food. But I must have control. My dad ate so much that, as a kid, I'd lose half my plate to him. I'd barely get started and he'd ask, "Are you going to eat that?" Dare I say Yes? No. He'd take it from me. My mom wouldn't cook much, so we had to fend for ourselves. Now, I actually panic if there's nothing to eat. It's like I have to plan ahead, and if it seems like there won't be any, I obsess about that. There has to be more than enough--an extra box of cereal, plenty of milk. But when it comes down to it, I won't eat much. I would easily be vegetarian just because I can. I'll go fat free or health nut, and if I do eat a burger with a load of fries, I feel guilty. When I got married, I was about 50 pounds underweight. I've gained to about normal, but it's still an issue or I wouldn't be writing about it here.
So why food? Why did some of our parents make it about food to begin with? What does that have to do with abuse?
Of course, that wasn't all my dad controlled. We were only allowed 3 squares of TP, the towels had to be hung a certain way, the car couldn't be started until everyone was in it and buckled, and if my sister or me had to go there was a jar in the car. If you've seen "Sleeping With The Enemy", the husband in that movie was my dad. I guess, as a kid, we control what we can. I'd get hit if I broke the other rules, and from what some of the guys here have said, they'd get hit over food too, but maybe food was something I could have a secret control over. The one thing I could keep from entering my body.