Definition Essay On Food

English 101

“The Meaning of Food” Throughout my childhood I grew up with my mother preparing all my meals, to what I thought was normal eating habits. My mother is southern and was working full time. We usually ate fried or fast food; we would have traditions that would not only feed our bellies but our souls. It all started when I was in the fourth grade the pounds piled up like the pancakes my mother would make on Sunday morning. I started to use food as comfort and think I needed to eat that extra bite as my family did. My family ate for connection, and that satisfaction you would get after feeling overwhelmingly full. My mother started us children out young in the kitchen, to learn to fend for ourselves. I can remember
having the power of not eating what was healthy since my mother and father worked long hours. To eat that boxed pizza or corndogs, feeling like a kid at the fair. What I didn’t know was something as simple as food would change my life. As I started getting older in my teen years and the weight rippled over like an ice cream cone In July.
My family would celebrate all the joy with a fest fit for kings. I can remember on the holidays my mother would wake up extra early and the house would smell of hand rolled biscuits that were smothered in butter, all the spices and smells of poultry filled the house and wrapped around you like your favorite blanket. My family would eat and eat tell we couldn’t move to what I thought was normal. From grandmother to mother to daughter we were programmed to know your way around the kitchen. Julie Dash in “Rice Culture” embellished “Everyone could cook, the men, woman, and children. It was unheard of not to be able to throw down in the kitchen.” (PG139) Having family traditions passed down and the way I watched my mother cook was like I was programed like a remote. Feeling as if I had to stay tuned in like that overwhelming series that has you eager on the edge of your seats. Every dish was cooked with butter, grease or came from a box, which turned into a routine. Instead of eating a fruit or vegetables for a snack, I would pop in a TV dinner to get that satisfaction of being full, knowing I wouldn’t go hungry but for that simple fact of choice. That TV dinner was now an afternoon tradition that rejoiced my child hood with joy. Connie Shultz in “Heat, Tray, Love” stated “Oh, the unrivaled joy that leapt from the heart of a child used to be whenever that ridge of
aluminum prevented a triangle of peas from mingling with the triangle of potatoes.”(PG 114) What I was faced with was keeping up with family traditions of food broke my confidence as a young woman not allowing myself to do things as others did with the haunted ghost of food in my corner.
Food had now become my secret affair, even though the effects showed on my body as a billboard. Food was then my comfort, the joy of cooking and preparing meals for my family became a pleasure, the sensation of felling full but yet so empty inside. Food then became a hobby, trying to fit my mother’s footsteps and prepare food the way she did pushed me to fulfill that empty void. Always having more than a normal portion size but to have plates filled to perfection, were my biggest struggles. Then before I knew it I became obese and having my life speed by like NASCAR by simply following traditions and doing what I thought was normal. I then became to blame my family and food for my addiction. Having everything swirl around me like a tornado, feeling I had no grip on the choices I made. From the pressure on society and not feeling like I fit in and judged when I would simply go out to eat and want to enjoy a cheese burger like all my friends. I had a sense of feeling like I was screaming in a crowded and no one would look up. On those simple choices of food I loved and counted on, I was diagnosed with high blood pressure and high cholesterol at the begging of life at age
20. The fear of dying young or not getting those joys of being in a relationship of the opposite sex and having a family killed me inside. I had to forgive my family because they too were programmed from generation to generation. I had to learn food and how to cook all over again to know it wasn’t too late. At the age of 22 I made an effort to learn how to cook the healthy way , to still enjoy food but have the mentality that its pleasure but yet fuel. I now prepare my food each week and still enjoy the emotions behind loving food but for all the right reasons. I no longer follow what I thought was normal and cook with grease or sticks of butter; I cook with all natural spices and water. I can taste the spices and the tenderness of the chicken as it explodes with flavor, portioning my food and having that empty void begin to feel full. Having that fear of my mother to be disappointed, I didn’t follow family traditions but knew she would forgive me as I did her and food to change my life. Food was now my partner not a comfort, I learned how to eat healthy and saw my body change as the seasons came and gone. I have now changed our traditions and became the teacher in my family, to help push them in the right direction and to learn to use food as fuel but yet still to connect to feed our souls. Food is passion, emotions, links many memories. I have now lost 97 lbs, at the age of 23 no long have high blood pressure or high cholesterol. I continue to learn and to love food and have embraced how it changed my life not once but twice.