Cravings Part 2:
For the most part, cravings are one of two things: either they are emotional or they are physical. Emotional cravings may be in response to feelings we don’t want to face, they may be a reaction to something or they may satisfy our need for comfort or a treat. Physical cravings are the way in which our bodies tell us that we are lacking certain nutrients. (Excerpt from last week’s newsletter)
A little while ago, I conducted a little cravings experiment...
You may not know (or believe) this about me, but if I could, I would live on ice cream*. But ice cream alone does not a healthy, fertile woman make and after losing a few too many battles against my sweet, creamy adversary, I set about declaring all-out peace. Inspired by Geneen Roth, I decided to allow myself all the ice cream I could possibly swallow. The plan was to eat whenever and as much as I could fit in my belly and see whether that might help me with my unruly cravings. It seemed to have worked wonders for Ms. Roth, the theory being that by removing my judgment and prohibition, I would eventually stop enjoying the forbidden aspect of ice cream. While this might sound counterintuitive, I had exhausted every other possibility and was up for the challenge.
For as long as I can remember, I have wanted ice cream on an almost daily basis. I have celebrated with ice cream and drowned my sorrows in it. I have served it to friends for dessert only to polish off the carton after their departure, and I have carried on silent arguments with a half-empty tub for days at a time.
For as long as I have craved ice cream, I have fought those cravings. I would manage to resist for days and weeks. But “just one bite” and I would quickly resign myself to all-out-fall-off-a-cliff abandon – because, as the little voice in my head would remind me, if I wasn’t going to allow myself any for ages afterwards, may as well have as much as I could in that one sitting. In the end, I would find myself wracked with guilt, not to mention wicked indigestion. I would swear that things would change, that I would never eat like that again. But then, only a few weeks later, I would once again succumb to my cravings.
I won’t lie. For the first few days of my experiment, with close to two decades of restrictions suddenly lifted, I went a bit mad. I ate A LOT of ice cream: chocolate with vanilla cream, vanilla with chocolate sauce, even something I can only describe as made by the Gods called O-reo. In that first week+, I went through at least a pint a day. My belly didn’t thank me, and the emotions involved were quite intense. I went through deep sadness, harsh guilt and violent anger. Memories surfaced that I had forgotten existed and I cried tears of every emotion available to me.
But I stuck with it, determined to see things through. Then, almost three weeks after I started, a funny thing happened -- something so strange, that it took me a good few days to believe it -- I stopped craving ice cream.
Don’t get me wrong: at no point did I stop loving ice cream. In fact, I still enjoy it as much as I ever have. But unlike before, when I felt that no matter how much I ate, it might never be enough, these days I find I am fully satisfied with a one, maybe two, scoops. Sometimes a tub of ice cream can linger in my freezer for days and weeks at a time – an absolute impossibility not too long ago.
This newsletter is not a permission slip to go have as much as you can of your favourite forbidden foods. It is not a carte blanche to eat yourself silly every night on your gastronomic weakness. Rather, my goal with these words is to point out that cravings aren’t the enemy. In fact, there is no enemy. Cravings are just cravings, and it is up to each one of us to find out what lies beneath.
Deconstructing cravings happens to be one of my specialties – so if you need a little help in that department, give me a shout. You can book a consultation by emailing me at Gabriela@thepickyfoodie.com.
Be well and
enjoy,
Gabriela
P.S. Many people find cooking for children quite a challenge. In fact a few weeks ago, this interesting article found that most mothers rely on very specific fallbacks. Curious about what I could come up with, I focused this past Friday Night Dinner on an angelic little three-year old with whom I had a very special play-date. Check it out!
* For the sake of clarity, I need to
point out that these days, being allergic to dairy means the ice cream I enjoy
is made from cashews and not milk.
You don’t have to take my word for it, but a good cashew-based ice cream
is every bit as luscious as any number of its counterparts.
Comments
Post has no comments.