The first word I learned after “mama” was “diet.” Ever since childhood, I’ve been running the numbers in my head. How many calories are in the roll? And does the rigatoni harbor more carbohydrates than the rice?
It’s gotten so bad that when biblical tales feature food, I envision myself in the scenes -- but instead of enjoying the feast, I’m tallying up the damage.
When manna falls from heaven, I imagine myself taking a few bites and then heading out for a long walk to burn off the calories.
When Jesus multiplies the loaves and fishes, I’m there eagerly munching on the fish but passing on the bread.
It seems there’s an unspoken fear that dieters share, and it goes like this: If I break my diet and gain a few pounds -- and if I have to buy jeans with big stretchy waistlines -- will anyone still love me?
In some ways diets have become our modern-day saviors. We seem to think the latest weight-loss plans will redeem us from the hell of unhappiness. And the guilt associated with breaking a diet echoes the furtive feelings that accompany sinning.
My friends and I sometimes whisper our failings in the confessional of a coffee shop.
“I can’t believe I had a hot fudge sundae yesterday even though I’m up five pounds,” someone sighs, and the heads nod sympathetically.
“Girl, that’s nothing,” someone else chimes in. “I’ve been pigging out on fried chicken and French fries, and now it’s bathing suit season!”
There’s an old saying that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. And that suggests a deeper truth as well, which is the connection between food and love.
How vividly I recall the days when company was coming to supper, and my mom’s biggest fear was running out of food.
For my mom, telling someone there wasn’t enough for seconds was tantamount to admitting she no longer loved them.
But here’s the irony: This same woman was constantly denying herself bagels and brownies in the hope of trimming off a few pounds.
My father thought she was gorgeous, and so did the kids. But in her opinion she was about 10 pounds over the perfect mark -- and until she reached that point, she felt unattractive.
Maybe a truly successful diet plan would start with a simple prayer: “Please, God, give me a saner attitude toward food. Let me not overeat or starve myself. Let me enjoy the bounty you have so generously provided -- and share the extra with people who go to bed hungry.
“And, Lord, help me to feel, deep in my heart, that no matter what I look like, I will always be your cherished child. And even if I have to add elastic to all my skirts, you will never stop loving me. Amen.”
Lorraine V. Murray's latest books include two mysteries, "Death in the Choir" and "Death of a Liturgist," plus a biography of Flannery O'Connor, "The Abbess of Andalusia." Her email is lorrainevmurray@yahoo.com.
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