I have been worried about the holidays, especially Christmas. This is the super bowl of the year for my family. Christmas is it. We go all out, spend a lot of time together, eat enormous amounts of food, spend more time together, gobble more food, and eventually open presents in a frenzy of paper and ribbon extraction. It is insane and wonderful. We really look forward to it every year.
That is still true, but this year is different in that I am not looking forward to the food. I am, but I’m not. We have several parties and celebrations that are all centered on food and lots of it. My cousins have a huge party and they are some kind of good cooks. That is the first weekend of December. It’s a great time and I love seeing all the extended family, but the food is buffet style and it is nearly incomprehensible.
I’m not going this year and I would love to say that it is because I am strong and I am refraining from parties that have too much of an emphasis on food. I don’t know if I am strong enough to say that and stand up to the family that way. I really want to only for self-preservation, but it’s hard. I hunger for that celebration with family and food. This year I don’t have to give that party up for that reason. I am in school and have too much homework to do. I can’t spend the day driving to another town and spending the day. My wife has a work party (the bosses boss) and that is a must-attend event.
Unfortunately that is like my family parties, just worse. There is food in every room of the house, and every level. There are at least 100 people that attend this work-related event so it’s big. They start cooking two months before hand. The problem is that I can’t get away from the endless buffet tables. They are in every freaking room of the house. So we are choosing to go, fraternize, and then leave. The big boss’ wife makes some delicious desert that is so buttery and addictive that it calls to me weeks before that party happens. I don’t remember the name of it; I call it baked heroine. It’s buttery and gooey, artery clogging, heart stopping, fat building goodness and I don’t need one single piece of it. I don’t know that I can keep out of it, but hopefully we won’t stay long enough for me to eat much of it.
Then comes Aunt Bessie’s party. She cooks enough food two feed 35 people and she expects all 12 of us to eat it all … every morsel. What we don’t eat is forced on us to take home. It consists of the traditional turkey and stuffing dinner with extra sugar and salt. It’s good, mind you, but it is not good for me. It’s laid out in buffet style, of course, and we spend several hours there. I pick and pick at the food, then over eat during the meal, and then pick some more. It is absolute insanity. Then I am forced to take home the food that is bad for me.
On Christmas Day, we get up at the crack of God and open presents – usually around 6 a.m. or so. The kids get up and so we all get up. Afterwards, the rest of the extended family comes over for Christmas Breakfast. This has been a tradition in my family for years and it is a big food extravaganza for at least 15 people, sometimes more. The typical buffet consists of:
Biscuits
Sausage Gravy
Pancakes
Sausage
Bacon
Fried Fresh Side Pork
Ham
Egg Casserole
Fried Eggs
Hash Browns
Fruit
Butter and Jelly
Peanut Butter (for the pancakes)
Milk
Orange Juice
Apple Juice
Syrup
Sometimes we throw in extra goods like banana bread french toast, cinnamon roll french toast or pork chops. Don’t get me wrong; I love every bite sopping up any leftover gravy with a biscuit. And if it were just one meal, then it wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s the last in a long line and it’s becoming dangerous for me. I don’t want to give it up. Like an old friendly blanket, I want to curl up with my biscuits and gravy. I have to draw the line somewhere.
How exactly do I tell my family about my concerns? Do I ask them to change their long traditions for me? That feels selfish, partly because Aunt Bessie has told me so. Others have told me that I can’t avoid the parties. That is wrong. I just have to learn not to overeat. I don’t know how anyone else will feel about me wanting to change these traditions and I don’t want to ruin their Christmas. That’s a lot to ask. They know about my food addiction; maybe I should just let them come to a decision by themselves. What if they don’t? Then what? Controlling my eating has proved a fruitless endeavor. I have been worried about it for some time. I don’t want to the reason. Like the one student in class who ruins it for everyone else.
“Because of one student, boys and girls, we are no longer going to let you do such-and-such. I’m very sorry, but someone has ruined it for the rest of us.” That is a lot of stress and actually makes me want to eat more. That doesn’t work at all. There has to be a better way, but I have not been sure what to do, until recently.
Turns out I didn’t have to say a word. Just expressing my concerns on my blog has yielded results. My family reads my blog, a thought that I try to keep out of my mind so that I am honest in my writing and honest with my audience. I figure it’s my space and if they want to read it then that’s fine, but they can choose not to if they find it hurtful or offensive. Turns out that isn’t true either. I think it has helped my mother and I to have a closer relationship. We talk about things we’ve never discussed before. She came up with the solution on her own and it doesn’t really involve me so much. I haven’t asked them to change anything. I’ve just talked about my concerns. The other day she told me on the phone:
That’s all it takes I guess. I don’t really know what that means. Is she going to make a new breakfast menu or is she going to make me an alternative breakfast? Maybe it’s something I have not thought about. I don’t know, but I’ve decided not to worry about it. She said she’s taking care of it and that’s just going to be enough for me. It feels nice not to have to think about it. I don’t want my Christmas taken up with obsessive thoughts about food.
Christmas is about love and contrary to our cultural traditions, food is not love. Parties are not about food. Celebrations are about family and community, love and peace. I have a hard time with that idea. I want it to be about food just like the next guy, but I can’t do that anymore. I have to change that before anything else can happen.
I’m not worried about food or about what others think. Mom said she will take care of it and I’m going to let her. She’s good at that kind of thing. No one argues when she makes changes in the family. When she says something is a new tradition, then it’s a new tradition and everyone just accepts it. When she says that we are doing something, then everyone does it, like it or not. And they don’t put up a fuss. She wields some kind of super mind manipulation power, kind of like a girl version of Professor X from the comic book and movie franchise, The X-men.
I’m excited about Christmas and about the prospects of not worrying and fretting. It’s about family and that’s exactly what I plan on focusing on. I will be out of school for a month and want to spend my time with my family, not with food. Christmas is about Love and I am determined to keep it focused there.
That is still true, but this year is different in that I am not looking forward to the food. I am, but I’m not. We have several parties and celebrations that are all centered on food and lots of it. My cousins have a huge party and they are some kind of good cooks. That is the first weekend of December. It’s a great time and I love seeing all the extended family, but the food is buffet style and it is nearly incomprehensible.
I’m not going this year and I would love to say that it is because I am strong and I am refraining from parties that have too much of an emphasis on food. I don’t know if I am strong enough to say that and stand up to the family that way. I really want to only for self-preservation, but it’s hard. I hunger for that celebration with family and food. This year I don’t have to give that party up for that reason. I am in school and have too much homework to do. I can’t spend the day driving to another town and spending the day. My wife has a work party (the bosses boss) and that is a must-attend event.
Unfortunately that is like my family parties, just worse. There is food in every room of the house, and every level. There are at least 100 people that attend this work-related event so it’s big. They start cooking two months before hand. The problem is that I can’t get away from the endless buffet tables. They are in every freaking room of the house. So we are choosing to go, fraternize, and then leave. The big boss’ wife makes some delicious desert that is so buttery and addictive that it calls to me weeks before that party happens. I don’t remember the name of it; I call it baked heroine. It’s buttery and gooey, artery clogging, heart stopping, fat building goodness and I don’t need one single piece of it. I don’t know that I can keep out of it, but hopefully we won’t stay long enough for me to eat much of it.
Then comes Aunt Bessie’s party. She cooks enough food two feed 35 people and she expects all 12 of us to eat it all … every morsel. What we don’t eat is forced on us to take home. It consists of the traditional turkey and stuffing dinner with extra sugar and salt. It’s good, mind you, but it is not good for me. It’s laid out in buffet style, of course, and we spend several hours there. I pick and pick at the food, then over eat during the meal, and then pick some more. It is absolute insanity. Then I am forced to take home the food that is bad for me.
On Christmas Day, we get up at the crack of God and open presents – usually around 6 a.m. or so. The kids get up and so we all get up. Afterwards, the rest of the extended family comes over for Christmas Breakfast. This has been a tradition in my family for years and it is a big food extravaganza for at least 15 people, sometimes more. The typical buffet consists of:
Biscuits
Sausage Gravy
Pancakes
Sausage
Bacon
Fried Fresh Side Pork
Ham
Egg Casserole
Fried Eggs
Hash Browns
Fruit
Butter and Jelly
Peanut Butter (for the pancakes)
Milk
Orange Juice
Apple Juice
Syrup
Sometimes we throw in extra goods like banana bread french toast, cinnamon roll french toast or pork chops. Don’t get me wrong; I love every bite sopping up any leftover gravy with a biscuit. And if it were just one meal, then it wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s the last in a long line and it’s becoming dangerous for me. I don’t want to give it up. Like an old friendly blanket, I want to curl up with my biscuits and gravy. I have to draw the line somewhere.
How exactly do I tell my family about my concerns? Do I ask them to change their long traditions for me? That feels selfish, partly because Aunt Bessie has told me so. Others have told me that I can’t avoid the parties. That is wrong. I just have to learn not to overeat. I don’t know how anyone else will feel about me wanting to change these traditions and I don’t want to ruin their Christmas. That’s a lot to ask. They know about my food addiction; maybe I should just let them come to a decision by themselves. What if they don’t? Then what? Controlling my eating has proved a fruitless endeavor. I have been worried about it for some time. I don’t want to the reason. Like the one student in class who ruins it for everyone else.
“Because of one student, boys and girls, we are no longer going to let you do such-and-such. I’m very sorry, but someone has ruined it for the rest of us.” That is a lot of stress and actually makes me want to eat more. That doesn’t work at all. There has to be a better way, but I have not been sure what to do, until recently.
Turns out I didn’t have to say a word. Just expressing my concerns on my blog has yielded results. My family reads my blog, a thought that I try to keep out of my mind so that I am honest in my writing and honest with my audience. I figure it’s my space and if they want to read it then that’s fine, but they can choose not to if they find it hurtful or offensive. Turns out that isn’t true either. I think it has helped my mother and I to have a closer relationship. We talk about things we’ve never discussed before. She came up with the solution on her own and it doesn’t really involve me so much. I haven’t asked them to change anything. I’ve just talked about my concerns. The other day she told me on the phone:
“I do not want you to worry about Christmas. You hear me? You are not to worry about it anymore,” said my mom.
That’s all it takes I guess. I don’t really know what that means. Is she going to make a new breakfast menu or is she going to make me an alternative breakfast? Maybe it’s something I have not thought about. I don’t know, but I’ve decided not to worry about it. She said she’s taking care of it and that’s just going to be enough for me. It feels nice not to have to think about it. I don’t want my Christmas taken up with obsessive thoughts about food.
Christmas is about love and contrary to our cultural traditions, food is not love. Parties are not about food. Celebrations are about family and community, love and peace. I have a hard time with that idea. I want it to be about food just like the next guy, but I can’t do that anymore. I have to change that before anything else can happen.
I’m not worried about food or about what others think. Mom said she will take care of it and I’m going to let her. She’s good at that kind of thing. No one argues when she makes changes in the family. When she says something is a new tradition, then it’s a new tradition and everyone just accepts it. When she says that we are doing something, then everyone does it, like it or not. And they don’t put up a fuss. She wields some kind of super mind manipulation power, kind of like a girl version of Professor X from the comic book and movie franchise, The X-men.
I’m excited about Christmas and about the prospects of not worrying and fretting. It’s about family and that’s exactly what I plan on focusing on. I will be out of school for a month and want to spend my time with my family, not with food. Christmas is about Love and I am determined to keep it focused there.
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