Saved

The other day I posted that sometimes it is hard to say that I have had an eating disorder for half of my life.  I remarked to my husband that what hits me even harder is that eventually it will have been for over half of my life, for most of my life, etc.  But you know what else I've had for half of my life?  My husband in some shape or form.  I was 13 when I walked into that history class in 8th grade, and this December it will have been 13 years ago.  He knew then that I was something different to him.  I don't remember him at all, but I am positive God was doing something there.  

My husband in many ways has saved me from myself.  I ran to him, asking him to date (shocking him after our long friendship where I refused to date him), because compared to the poor decisions I had made before him, he was practically a perfect Romeo.  Suddenly I was going to be someone's wife.  Getting trashed with friends and dancing until 3 in the morning (well, I still do the latter) no longer seemed the best decision every weekend.  

And after we were married there were no secrets.  I would try to hide the hard days from him, only to find out later that he always knew.  He'd known about the bulimia from the beginning and he accommodated the things I needed.  The no food that was easily fixable in the house.  Some ask how I learned to cook, and it was literally from sheer desperation on a crazy work schedule realizing long after the stores were closed that I only had things like flour, sugar, butter, onions.  But he never complained.  He knew that having convenience foods meant possibly a sick wife, so he got used to eating fresh fruits and veggies a lot.  

And then I began to really love cooking.  To love the feel of the knife as it rocked beneath my fingers.  To love the smell of onions and mushrooms as they sauteed on the stove.  To bask in the warmth of a kitchen heated by an oven full of baked delights.  And although the e.d. is a demon I will battle with my whole life, food, strangely enough has saved me.  I love food done well.  I love the perfectly crisp but tender french fry and the smoothness of homemade flan (the restaurants, not my own...something I still have to attempt).  The one truth that even G has noticed is that if it's great food I don't feel the need to gorge and I don't get sick.  I've learned that the whole experience, the taste, the smells, the setting affects how I feel about the food I eat.  

So that is what I want to share this month.  How food can affect your whole evening.  How to learn to love cooking, to see it as a hobby rather than a task to check off.  I don't always feel that way.  There are days that I get so tired I don't want to cook at all.  Those days are normal.  But I want to talk about how important it is to have a good relationship with food, for everyone.  To learn to eat fruits and veggies and healthy fats.  To get your protein, but not an overload of it.  To enjoy things like butter and cream.  (and yes, the one thing I have to fight the urge to turn my nose up at is vegetable spread....a.k.a. fake butter.....I'd rather eat bread plain.)  

And there will be recipes, and hopefully a cooking vlog or two.  We'll talk about why I don't like to consider anything a "bad" food, why I think cake is meant to be enjoyed not stared down, and why with the thought of moderation anything can be enjoyed.  We'll talk about fruits, even the weird ones.  And why fiber is one of the most important things to get enough of.  So please, if you have recipes you love, send them my way.  Interesting food fact?  I'd love to hear it.  Favorite odd food you think everyone should try?  Share!  Talking about food is always chic.  Let's just skip the caloric talk and get right to the yumminess!