FOOD: I want to feel hungry again

Food. Or. Sustenance. This is what I stuggle to define everyday. For my young life, food had been a necessity - something to cling to the walls of my stomach so it didn't sink in. This is the only time in my life where I felt hunger. That was when my staple diet consisted of two things - rice and beans. When I imigrated to the US, things took a change.

For one, mother was so cautious with me and my brother that she took charge over our nurition like a hawk. There were no processed sweets unless on holidays like Easter, and even then I tried my first Oreo at twelve. The food item that comes to my mind during these times is peanut butter sandwiches. Thick, creamy, chunky, PB and homemade bread - it could practically choke you with the carb and protein ratio. I have since hated peanut butter sandwiches, and can't eat them without a signinficant amount trouble. But I also remember Sunday pot roasts, and Subway Italian subs, oatmeal, and crepes - she was a good cook.

Once I came to live with dad, the possibilities were endless. Not only did we eat takeout from fast food restaurants, and chain resurants - he cooked as well. Chicken pot pies, spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread, mashed potoes and meat gravy, lasagne, all staple comfort foods. He embodied the comfort in his extended stomach, but there was always plenty to eat for the both of us. I especially ate my fill during sport season or the brunt of winter, and often took the leftovers for my school lunch.

Moving to college is where my troubles began. For starters, my diet had to conform to the cafeteria selection, and while it was enjoyable for the first week, it became unbearable soon. Not only was this a problem, but I was allotted three meals a day that I felt guilty not using because I (or rather my loans) had paid for. But sometimes, I wasn't hungry for what they had, other times I wasn't hungry at all.

Moving into my own apartment brought the freedom I had desired, but having removed all possible circumstances for my odd relationship with food still has provided me no answer. I am able to grocery shop where I want, buy what I want, and eat takeout whenever I want - but yet, I still wake up feeling more or less burdened with the choice of food. "What food shall I eat today?" And I can't imagine another 70+ years like this. I want to fee hungry.

Is the act of choosing food the reason I can't feel hungry? Should I instead seperate the two so that only one remains. If I remove all food options and like my young life, stick to a staple of one item a day, would I prehaps then feel a hunger for more rather than an apathetic view towards all. Prehaps when I clean out my refrigerator and pantry, I can get started. And I don't mean meal prep - no that seems more a prison. Rather something that I both enjoy making, that the repetition of making and eat provide a comfort to me that cannot be stripped from the mundanity.

I shall update soon. But now the daunting task of eating what I have in my house, which is another blog for another day - my incessant need to stockpile food and then continue to buy takeout. This disordered relationship is a cycle, one I'm determined to break because I am desperate to love food again.