A few years back, a trend emerged on social media that has caused a reaction. Influencers, dieticians, nutritionists, coaches, trainers, models, and individuals navigating through recovery from eating disorders have all jumped on board, using a particular hashtag to inspire contents and likes. Each frame is timestamped, featuring brightly colored foods swiftly prepared or presented before smiling faces, perfectly portioned. Ingredient lineups, floating plates and spoons fill the screen, accompanied by a narration of the day's progression, accentuated by spatulas scraping pans, creating an illusory echo. Thumbs-ups, sunny dispositions, and underlying intentions are positive; they aim to be educational and disrupt the idea that social media is all filters and no substance. However, from my standpoint, as a viewer reflecting back on my history, these videos–these documents of “What I Eat in A Day,” are problematic.
I’ve been striving to care less about what I eat and how my day is naturally curated by meals. I know, my brain naturally obsesses about what I am putting in my body. It’s difficult for anyone, struggling with an eating disorder or not, to detach themselves from their plate and offer their thoughts and their body a break from the obsession. My journey spans years and my success is inconsistent.
Recently, I went on a girl’s trip to Mexico. None of the girls exhibited restrictive behavior. In fact, as we sat down for meals ordering an array of dishes to share–tacos, ceviche, guacamole, pasta, and rice–the question wasn’t, “Are we eating too much?” but rather, “Did we order enough?” If anyone seemed to be overthinking their meals, it was me. Or so I thought, until our final supper.
Seated outside at a table, six of us dined at a natural wine restaurant that had come strongly recommended. We ordered oysters, squash blossoms, and two servings of sourdough bread, when a plate of gnocchi was placed between our diverse glassware. Though we had all agreed to order it, the order hadn’t been given. Did we accept it? Yes. But then, we had to contemplate what to order next. Two of the girls were allergic to chicken, I don’t care for pork, and we had already indulged in octopus for lunch. Given the limited menu our choices were few. Then, one of my friends, Michelle, expressed her desire to order a gnocchi for herself and judging by the nodding heads everyone else agreed another gnocchi for the table was welcome. I placed one more order to be shared. However, when the gnocchi arrived, before its plate even touched the iron table top, Michelle grabbed it.
Was it her personal gnocchi, or was it meant for the group?
Who would have thought a small saucer of Parisian-style bechamel balls would end in controversy?
It wasn’t until later, after we had ordered chicken, steak tartare and a third serving of gnocchi, had Michelle spoke up.
“I’m sorry, ladies,” she said, “I don’t allow myself to eat pasta and carbs when I’m home. I work very hard for my body; it doesn’t come naturally.”
Your brother and father are stick-thin,” Kat interjects.
“That’s on my father’s side, I got my mother’s genetics. I work very hard to stay fit. I don’t allow myself to indulge unless I’m on vacation. So, I’m sorry for needing my own plate.”
Katie agrees, “I don’t eat pasta or carbs when I’m home, either. So, I understand. It’s okay to ask for what you need.”
During the conversation, I remained silent. Michelle and I had known each other for 10 years, and my initial impression of her was, “she’s lucky. She’s tall, thin and confident,” yet her statement at the table revealed that she related to my insecurities more than I’d considered.
Now, you might be wondering, how this scene relates to my opinion on “What I eat in a day?” videos.
Its promotion for our food fears that subconsciously shape our thoughts. In reducing a day to its meals, we inevitably find ourselves obsessing and categorizing every detail. Food becomes its label–carbs, fats, proteins. How does our cheeseburger compare to the influencer that ate a salad with salmon and sweet potato? If I don’t eat pasta made with semolina flour, I’ll be closer to the body that I desire. Different foods have nutritional values that have been proven to affect the body in different ways; but the rules we have in our heads are unstable.
Diet standards, like body standards are constantly evolving. Gluten is bad for you, but sourdough is great. Eating dark leafy greens before every meals improves digestion, but raw vegetables can be hard to break down. As a society, we all consume too much protein, but protein is the most satiating macronutrient and having a protein-based breakfast improves blood sugar levels. There is a rule for everything; food becomes categorized as good and bad; imprisoned by stress.
And nothing has damaged my gut more than stress. The more I’ve looked at my digestive issues, the more convinced I am that stress has been the greatest aggravator to my digestive woes. During my time in London, I vividly remember a piece of plain, boiled chicken causing my stomach to twist and knot after an exam that failed me by one point, than a bowl of spaghetti with parmesan while I was on vacation.
Instead of promoting the idea that we need to focus our days around eating the right food, we need to be more careless. You don’t eat well following a person with different genetics, culture, food options, or physical activity, told you too, but because you enjoyed the thing you had in that moment for yourself.