“Okay, jeez, hold on,” she said, as she tried to latch her
new born son on. I sat giggling, as his
little fists clenched and his cries got more and more urgent in the mere
seconds it took her to lift up her shirt and unclip her bra. Those are the worst
little moments that tie you up in knots as a mom. It’s funny to watch someone else, because,
really, there are a few things that have to happen before you can help your
child, you cannot feed them instantly. I
guess new babies aren’t really known for their patience.
(During that discussion one friend wondered aloud if babies
have a Pavlovian response from hearing the click of a nursing bra. I think that’s kind of funny.)
Every now and then I catch a glimpse of my child’s eagerly
ecstatic face in that moment when I am turning her belly to belly,
‘Here’s comes the good stuff,’ she seems to be saying. Like a fat kid before a cake. When I see that face I wonder,
‘What’s so great about breastmilk that you would make that
face? Can it taste that great?’ It makes me wonder is it the sheer act of
eating that delights them? Is it the end
of hunger that gives them that smile? Or
is it both?
I’ve heard that drugs just produce an amplification of the
effect on our brain that food gives us.
I had a rough day yesterday.
As I stomped around angry at my daughters for needing me all the time I
felt urges in me boomerang my desires bask to the stash of chocolate in our
fridge. I envisioned tipping a tub of
chocolate covered cherries into my open gullet and pouring. The sweet chewiness letting the pressure off
my bottlecap of anger. I didn’t. I think I ate a few after dinner.
I don’t write this to tout my self-control; often I have
none. I’ve never considered myself an
emotional eater. Once upon a time in
middle school I had a crush on a boy. I
walked to the local 7-11 bought a pint of ice cream, Haagen Daz Cappucino (had
a mild cinnamon flavor which confused my 12 year old taste buds) and ate it
all. I sat there and thought, ‘Well I still
don’t have him and now my stomach hurts.’
So logic often wins over gorging myself, but cravings are there, like
static in the back of my head.
Why?
And why are they so stinking strong?
Sometimes I take a hit.
Often I follow the rule, ‘If it’s not really good it’s not worth the
calories.’
So the drive to eat is strong within us, that makes sense;
if you don’t eat you die. We live in a
country with an overabundance of, well, everything. When I moved to Kenya I lost eight pounds
within the first few weeks. What did you
do? You ask. Nothing.
It just came off me. I think it’s
owed to less processed food, less snack food, less sugar, and less
alcohol. Think about it, when you go to
any event here in the US there is usually a table stacked with food. Overkill.
Always. I think it takes a lot
self-control to stay thin in the US.
I guess we are born with it, we come out hungry. And fat and sugar taste good. And, boy, do we have a lot of it.