Sam’s post on Wednesday on the not-funny joke about the two types of people in quarantine really struck me. I’ve been doing a lot of comfort eating, comfort reading, comfort tv viewing, and comfort napping.
Yes, I’m doing zoom yoga and walking outside. I’m out riding my bike (sometimes with a mask and sometimes without– stay tuned for more on Sunday’s post).
But like Sam and Cate and probably all of us, I’m not capable of functioning the ways I’d like all the time. That’s too much to expect of us no matter how rosy things are in the world. And they’re decidedly not rosy right now.
I wrote this piece around holiday time a while back. What it has in common with eating under pandemic conditions is: 1) the panic that comfort eating provokes in public discussions anytime; and 2) the absurd lengths to which the health/fitness industry will go to keep us from cookies or cake or pasta. To them I say put a sock in it. To you I say comfort eating is eating, which is one of many things we do. It’s really not going to kill us, which is even more meaningful now.
The holiday season is in full swing now, replete with holiday foods. At my sister’s house, this means a big ham, loads of cookies, pimento cheese for crackers, and other really rich foods that we don’t eat much of other times of year.
The holiday season is also hectic. For me this means parties and fun holiday events, the frenetic pace of turbo-grading, getting ready to fly to see family with a large checked bag of gifts (trying not to forget my toothbrush), and then hanging out with them, not in my home eating and activity environment.
Enter comfort eating. I kind of hate this term, because it’s super judgy. I mean, we eat. Food comforts us sometimes. We enjoy that feeling of satisfaction from eating the food. What’s the problem?
Health and medicine folks often talk about comfort eating as eating in response to loneliness, anxiety, and sadness. The…
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