Since I guess I am still bitter today, I will add that I hate it when I have to go over to my mother-in-law’s for a bridal shower or her church’s stupid Mother’s Day mother-daughter banquet (don’t get me wrong, I am OK with spending time with her and this is a nice opportunity to celebrate Mother’s Day, it is just never actually fun), and while we are doing that my husband and his dad do something they actually enjoy like hang around at home watching football and eating pizza, or play a round of golf. I don’t begrudge them the time together but I hate the idea that nibbling dainty food and doing “lady” things is supposed to be just as much fun for me as their activity is for them. Not that men don’t get stereotypical gender-based
“forced fun” too, but at least there is usually hearty food at theirs. :)

Then my mom and I volunteered at the father-son event.

Where they got to eat hot dogs and play games outside. Boo.

Oh, I guess we are related. I’ve been waiting years for someone’s head (other than mine) to explode from the cognitive dissonance.

“For some reason in my house, exercise (or lack of it) was considered the reason for my fatness, not the food I ate.”

Thank you so much for sorting that out. For years I could not parse the mystery.

(‘Course, I spent years running track and more in modern dance, after mom got over her paralyzing fears that I would be run over on the way to the mailbox by an out-of-control vehicle and therefore should not go out to play with the the other kids, but … whatevs.)

apricotmuffins – ever read The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis? There’s this passage where the older devil Wormwood, advising his nephew Screwtape on tempting his human ‘client’, talks about how the client’s mother has a habit of sending food back in restaurants, complaining that it’s much too much for her and can she have a really really tiny portion, properly done…putting the waitress through a whole load of inconvenience on her behalf. That, says Uncle Wormwood, is simply another form of gluttony, all the more delightful because the sinner doesn’t see it as such. It’s the only place I’ve come across that viewpoint. (Then again, Lewis liked his food and probably wouldn’t have been keen on self-deprivation as a virtue – and if it’s not changed since I last went there a few years ago, his favorite pub, the Eagle and Child in Oxford, is an excellent place to have lunch.)

Now, there was a double standard. I did get told at Thanksgiving one year, “You’re as big as a horse. (pause) Do you want another piece of pie?” For some reason in my house, exercise (or lack of it) was considered the reason for my fatness, not the food I ate.

I’ve definitely noticed a difference in how I enjoy meals depending on the group I’m with. In college, I mostly hung out with girls who were thinner than I was and almost universally trying to lose weight. I always felt guilty and monstrously fat.

Now, though, I spend most of my food outings with three girls of sizes from “chubby” to “fat”. And they all love food. We are currently on a mission to try all the diners in our area, and when I order a bacon cheeseburger they only ask me if it was cooked properly. Going out with people who enjoy food, who enjoy eating and socializing, is amazing.

(Side note: the Skylark Diner in Edison, NJ has a divine chocolate milkshake.)