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Getting started, or, Taking it slow with vegetables

I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I love it too much. I spend most of my time thinking about what I just ate. Or what I am eating. Even while I’m eating, I’m already looking forward to what I’m going to eat next.

I live in Boston, which means that there is good food everywhere. I don’t have a car, which means that I’m either being lazy and going broke eating delicious and expensive restaurant food, or pulling a muscle in my shoulder from carrying too many grocery bags too far. I’m hoping to find a delicious and painless happy medium.

I’m not a good cook. I’m an okay cook. Sometimes I can whip up something awesome like lemon chicken parmesan with a white wine sauce and (instant) mashed potatoes. Sometimes I’d rather just have cereal for dinner. I have to call my mom with questions a lot, like “How can I defrost the shrimp right now because I’m starving, without giving myself food poisoning?” (Answer: there is no fast way. You will probably eat so many Wheat Thins while waiting for the shrimp to defrost that you won’t be hungry when it’s ready to cook. But then you’ll have to cook it anyway.)

Despite what it sounds like (as if I’m constantly stuffing my face), I try to eat healthy. I’m in a pretty new and fragile relationship with vegetables. We’re taking it slow. We had an incident with stir fry that made me feel like I was moving too fast, so I’m going to have to learn to trust that it will all be okay and not horrible.

Food is essential. Calories are essential. Counting calories is bullshit. Eating healthy should be saying no to ice cream sometimes (which, if I’m being honest, is something I have never done), or getting an apple instead of a candy bar, or going for a walk instead of going for a beer (I know… also impossible). It should not be getting angry with the cute old woman who brings her homemade chocolate chip cookies in to work to share because they were made with love and also 400 calories. What a manipulative crone.

Food tastes good for a reason. We crave things for a reason. We are supposed to enjoy food. Not to the extent that we sit on our couches eating our way through delivery pizza until our muscles atrophy, but also not to the extent of hating on that avocado because it is just too fatty. We need food to live, but if that were all, we would just eat tofu or rice or something else equally boring, just to fill our bellies and move on. But we don’t. Just look at the obesity rate in the United States.

Each week, I hope to give a normal (well, somewhat) person’s perspective on things like grocery shopping, dieting, cooking, failing at cooking, restaurants, and all the millions of other things that involve food. Really, when you think about it, what doesn’t?