I've been thinking a lot about comfort food. When I was younger, I remember my mother pouring me a chocolate drink that she said was from her childhood. She told me that my father and she had loved it and she hoped I would to. I don't remember what that drink was (it wasn't any of the normal brands) but I remember enjoying it a lot. That wasn't what interested me though. My father walked by and I offered him a sip of the drink. His reaction is burned into my memory.
He politely lifted the glass, smiled at me, and took a sip. His face ticked and he cupped the glass tightly. He drank the entire chocolate drink, ecstasy dancing on his face. My father, a very composed and stoic person, had a moment of pure joy. He thanked me, hugged my mother, and walked off to his office. My mother and I stared at each other. She smirked and told me that my dad had liked that drink a lot when he was a child.
So when all the diet pundits and nutrition addicts talk about how bad it is to tie food to emotions, I think of my father. If a small drink that reminded him of his childhood could give him so much pleasure, could it really be so bad?
There's nothing wrong with that, the problem starts when you start eating compulsively because of stress or any other emotion.
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