Have you ever seen TV shows from the 50’s? The families in that star in those vintage TV classicss all seem to be incredibly close. They play together, laugh together, pray together . . . but most importantly, they eat together.
Back then, dinner was a time to bring the whole family to come together and bond over a savory home-cooked feast. Now, most families are composed of workaholic parents, narcissistic adolescents who seem to lack family values, and children who are addicted to electronics. By the time dinner comes a long, members of this “modern family” are too engrossed in other matters to enjoy a nice family meal. I can’t help but feel saddened by the fact that this is what families have become, but at the same time, I always hope that my family will be too busy for dinner.
Because if I don’t have complete control over what goes on my plate, my heart begins to pound, my sweaty palms clench to form fists , and I can feel my anxiety and anger reach an all time high. I fear that by not having control over my food will result in me eating something loaded with an astonishing amount of calories. In my mind, this will of course lead to dramatic and sudden weight-gain which will ultimately result in me becoming some revolting, whale-like mass . . . my worst fear.
Last night though, I tackled this paralyzing fear and at approximately 5pm I sat down with my family and ate. Was I scared out of my mind? You bet. Did I want to hide in a corner and curl up in a ball? Of course. I don’t know how I managed to survive this harrowing task, but I did. I kicked ED’s ass once again and I am determined to keep on doing it.
It might not be fun, but I just have to keep telling myself that it’ll be worth it.