I was thinking about intimacy and how you build it. Some of it is sharing your life with someone, including all the little details. I am not always good at that.
Today I was thinking of one little quirk, my food habits.
This is as full as my fridge has been in the four months I have lived here. We are getting some winter weather over the weekend, not that common where I am, and I wanted to be sure I had some things to eat so I wouldn’t have to cook or ask someone to deliver me food. Not everything was a good choice if we lost power. I have an electric stove (something I was irritated about at first, but I barely use it anyway)
Food is one of those things that, growing up, we always had an abundance of. It was a reward, but also used as a form of passive-aggressive guilt. My whole world as a child revolved around it. We planned trips to the city based on where we would eat, and we drove 2 hours for the chance to shop at a Sam’s Club. We were offered treats and then badmouthed for eating them and not having any control. When you see relatives, there are always a few “you look good, have you lost weight?” comments. My mother is finally out of her mind enough not to do that anymore.
So I do not like to think about food in a way beyond I need to get the right nutrients in for me not to die. I eat a lot of bananas because I know that I am at risk for pernicious anemia and want all the potassium. I eat baked potatoes for that and to keep my blood pressure low. That was my dinner last night.
That is not to say I believe those things work or that I am doing a good job. There are two things of crab rangoon in that fridge, and I will eat the heck out of those today. But there is also salmon, and I worry about my heart the most.
If I am talking about intimacy, food is one of those things that has always been a big part of my life, one way or another, and I know it is something that can make me compatible or not with someone. I am not a good 50’s style wife. I will not cook. I love to be fed, though. Sharing any of this makes me nervous sometimes, like I will not be able to please them if I do not pretend to love to feed them.
Lisa Gray 