For my family, food has always been an impetus for order.
Anytime we become, as a group or as individuals, too disjointed or chaotic, my
family institutes some drastic changes in our eating-as if this will be a
solution to all of our problems. It has been this way since I can remember. I
can remember I time when I drank milk on the regular- now I am banned from the
terrible liquid- our fridge now has a corner exclusively for almond milk; which
is “Cordi’s drink.” Before almond milk it was rice milk. Before rice milk it
was soy milk, and so on.
When
my brothers were little it seemed like maybe they would escape the brunt force
of my parent’s “food meddling.” They didn’t. My youngest brother, Leo, had
developed a penchant for vegetables and coffee at an early age, which was
basically a formula for perpetual skinniness, something my dad and I envied but
was not healthy for a growing 7 year old boy. As for my middle brother Oliver,
his appetite was only rivaled by his ever rising height- something which
shocked my whole family (a family of short people) and had my mom rushing to
the doctors office when Oliver couldn’t get out of bed due to his legs
literally growing so fast that he could feel immense pain in his knees. Every
year the doctors would tell my mom the same thing; Leo-underweight,
Oliver-overweight, Cordelia-average. So naturally my mother realized that
cooking for all three of us as a unit was not going to work- we each had to be
rehabilitated individually- through our diets, of course.
For
Leo it was a diet rich with candy and “healthy-unhealthy” snacks, by which I
mean 1000 calories wrapped up in a package with more muted colours from Trader
Joe’s, which apparently signaled (to my mother) that these foods were superior-
organic and over expensive. For Oliver it was the sudden decision that he go
gluten free. The fridge and pantry filled quickly with gluten free brownies,
gluten free mini muffins, gluten free waffles, etc. It should be noted that
just as I was never allergic to lactose, Oliver has never at any point been
allergic to gluten.
I
was told, as a girl who was still growing (actually I wasn’t, the doctor had
told me and my mother that I was done growing forever) to eat plenty of protein.
While I took that as a light suggestion, one to be followed at my own
discretion, my parents interpreted it differently. I regularly hear cries of;
“Protein! You need to eat some protein with that!”, ringing through the house.
No joke, I hear it when I sleep. My parents were not content with average. I
began to develop the discreet suspicion that they were trying to fatten me up
for some sort of experiment of the most evil kind. (I still have that
suspicion)
But
alas- I discovered something far more calculated lurking under my parent’s food
revivalist attitude. Upon contemplation of the strange patterns of diet, I noticed
that all changes in food roughly coincided with changes in our lives. For Oliver,
entering middle school was the catalyst for his sudden gluten free lifestyle.
For Leo, it was his struggles in school and his anguish once he could grasp the
concept of “adopted.” For me; it was a little more complicated. The many
changes could be connected to many things, but the most significant ones
started taking place in sophomore year when I was finally feeling the stress of
challenging coursework, college plans, and an unclear future. I was pissy and
reclusive (I still am, but in an okay way) and my parents were not prepared to
deal with a hormonal teenage girl at the emotional level. Those mood swings
man... lets just say I’m glad I’m not a parent. Anyway, my parents way of
dealing with that was to decrease the amount of “agitating” foods in my diet. I
was restricted from foods with corn syrup because my mom once read somewhere
that it caused aggression. I was also given more protein and more iron because
a homeopath told my parents that this would reduce my stress levels and my
constant fatigue.
The
worst part is that they were right. My parents food meddling, no matter how
irritating, actually helped me in significant ways. Even if I stole over to
friends houses on the regular to eat Luck Charms and Poptarts, I felt a
constant reminder of my parents love whenever I thought of my food
restrictions- which were really just a subtle guiding hand, symbolic of the
care of my parents.
I still drink normal milk on the sly though.