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| Photo by: Rory M. |
The other day at work, one of my coworkers was having trouble deciding what to order for dinner. He was torn between a bacon cheeseburger, or a grilled cheese with bacon. As his break window got shorter and shorter, I asked him finally “Well, what are you hungry for? Do you really want a burger, or do you just want bacon and cheese?”. He made up his mind immediately, and ordered the grilled cheese, getting exactly what he really wanted without anything superfluous.
That story may seem random, but it applies to most people in a lot of situations. It’s not always easy to pinpoint what you really want, what you’re really hungry for. But in today’s culture of instant gratification, we rush to satisfy that hunger immediately, and more often than not, we miss the mark. We eat when we’re hungry for something to do. We compulsively shop when we’re hungry for happiness. But these things are like ordering a salad when you really want a steak: they relieve that hunger in the moment, but that real desire never goes away, and you’re often left hungrier than you were when you started.
In losing weight and making peace with food, a huge part of making the change permanent was recognizing when I was eating for physical hunger and when I was eating for emotional hunger. My true moment of realization came last fall, when my dog, my dopey, lovable companion of nine years, passed away. After we put him to sleep, my family stood in the kitchen together – and polished off an entire batch of chocolate chip cookies. Did eating make us feel better in the moment? Maybe. But it didn’t erase the feelings of emptiness or loneliness that we all felt; instead, it piled on feelings of guilt and shame on top of those.
Tackling the intangible – loneliness, boredom, depression – is not easy. It was a lot easier to bury the pain of losing my dog under cookies than face that hurt head on. It takes a lot more effort and a lot more time to satisfy that type of hunger, and involves the discomfort of loss, pain, loneliness. It entails opening up, exposing yourself as imperfect, emotional, vulnerable.
So next time you find yourself gravitating toward the cupboard, or reaching for your credit card to charge your fiftieth pair of shoes, stop. Count to ten. Ask yourself “Is this what I’m really hungry for?”. If it’s not, I challenge you not to give into your vice. Call your friend. Go for a walk. Write. Read. Just sit in the middle of a room and think about stuff. Satiate that emotional hunger.
I firmly believe that people who are truly beautiful are those who know themselves and are comfortable with themselves inside and out. They recognize and tackle their own emotions, knowing that the temporary pain of conquering their feelings is not greater than the permanent happiness that follows. They are clear headed, rational, and thoughtful. They are the grilled cheese and bacon sandwich, unburdened with the unnecessary weight of the burger. And they are beautiful.
Kelsey
