The internet, doing what it do, has conflated food with fashion and lifestyle in two distinct ways. There's the orgiastic junkfood fantasy; pizza on the turntable, jizzy ice-cream waterfall juxtaposed with a 90s alien icon, GIFs of sparkling candy, unholy mashups (bacon donuts, fried candy, corndogs as garnish), pizza print everything, hot dog bikinis, donut tattoos, a sexy girl in her underwear eating a burger, and food-shaped jewelry. The flipside of that seems to be rough hewn wood tables, "fresh picked" fruit and vegetables, a pretty girl in an orchard wearing a chambray shirt, candles, fingerless gloves, health, wholesomeness, oxford shoes, more chambray, seasonal apples, hand-carved spoons, milk in glass bottles, duck boots, sartorial trappings of farm life, and some more chambray.
|I found both of these images on Tumblr, if you can believe it|
|"Be Fat" sweatshirt from Beloved // burger slip-ons from Vans|
I hate thinking about food, and I used to not do it at all. Only now do I recognize how I was experiencing a very specific luxury at the narrow intersection of genetics and youth. I was a fairly skinny kid up through High School, and I ate everything. I mean it. I ate massive gobs of terrible shit every single day, was on non-speaking terms with vegetables, and my only form of exercise was maybe getting a dancing role in the school musical once a year. There was a diner right next to the church I grew up in called Time-Out Burger. All the families would go there for lunch after Sunday service, and all the bad kids went there for Sunday breakfast whenever they ditched Sunday service. My favorite thing to have was a cheeseburger special (with fries and a soda) plus chicken tenders on the side, a soda refill for dessert, and half of whatever everyone else at the table was having. This was often in addition to my bad-kid pancake breakfast I'd had just a couple of hours prior. I remember people saying "you're so lucky" about my ability to make junk food vanish without a trace, before adding—always with a hint of a smile—"that's not going to last forever."
|hot dog purse // TopShop food badge bomber (there's a Food Not Bombs joke in there somewhere)|
|tiny hands donut ring // nastygal backpack|
I don't have a large intestine anymore. I'm thankful everyday for my health, but it's been two years since that surgery and I'm still figuring out how to adjust. I digest things very quickly and get dehydrated easily. I went to the emergency room last year because I had too many grains and fiber that day and my delicate little guts were literally blocked. I spent five days in the hospital with a tube down my throat all because I didn't think about what I ate. The doctors had said there would be a 'lifestyle change' but they didn't give me any specific dietary restrictions. I've slowly learned that it's not what I eat so much as how I eat. I have to eat every few hours, or I'll get insanely hungry and dangerously stuff myself. I have to drink tons of water. I have to eat slowly and chew my food really well. It's like being a little kid, learning how to eat all over gain. Everybody should be doing those things anyway, but for me it's an issue of safety. I hate thinking that, it makes me feel sickly and feeble and not equipped for survival, but not thinking that is what landed me in the hospital...
|Sketch the mister made of me right before I went into surgery.|
...which I'm convinced I can pull off with a black shift dress and some nice pumps.