Everyone has a vice. For some, it’s drinking. For others, it’s food. Drugs, sex, gambling, etc. The list goes on and on. Some are more damaging than others, but all of them can impact our lives in a negative way.
I’m constantly questioning myself and others regarding where they feel their bad habit[s] originated.
Was food a comfort when you were upset as a child?
Did your family reward you with candy?
Did a bad break-up lead you to promiscuity in the hopes of boosting your self-esteem?
What was your catalyst?
I ask the question with the knowledge that most people either won’t have an answer or they will have MULTIPLE answers.
For me, food was often a reward. My grandmother used to take me out gallivanting when I was a child, with trips to fancy restaurants for decadent desserts the epitome of a great day. She was the child of post World War II Germany, so most of her youth was spent suffering from malnutrition, so she has spent the majority of her adult life making up for it. I just got to go along for the ride, acquiring a taste for pound cake, quality chocolate, and anything dipped in butter.
Food was also escape.
In high school, I used to eat purely for the joy of eating. The satisfying crunch of a salty chip could drown out the stress of final exams. The melting of ice cream on the tongue could erase the memory of being bullied in the halls.
As an adult, food is everything.
It’s nourishment and fuel.
It’s pleasure. It’s pain.
So why does food do that for us?
What, exactly, is the point of a pint?
Does it fill a void? Does it allow an outlet for emotion?
A few years ago, I wouldn’t have had an answer. At least, not a healthy one.
Now, though, I think that a pint of ice cream [or a pint of beer, given your preference], is sometime just that and nothing more. It’s a sweet, creamy, decadent indulgence that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Sometimes, the point of a pint is just the opportunity to enjoy a tasty treat, give a long stretch, and congratulate yourself on living through the day.
Bon appetit, my friends!