Our eating habits have become a morality play. We brag about eating "clean" and "detoxing" as we emulate Mother Teresa. When we overindulge, we describe ourselves as "bad," admit that we "cheated," and talk about how "guilty" we feel. One day we're "good" and stick to an egg white omelet and a kale salad with chopped Brussels sprouts. The next day we counterbalance our virtuosity by gorging on bacon wrapped deep dish pizza and chocolate dipped churros. We ping-pong between being saints and sinners. It seems that the further the pendulum swings in the direction of the heavens, the more vociferously it boomerangs back to Lucifer.
I see linguistic parallels here to my Catholic upbringing. I speak from experience, having endured 12 years of disagreeable women dressed in penguin outfits. Despite my aversion to the nuns, I was a good girl who attended mass every Sunday and went to confession on a regular basis.
As a nutritionist, one of the recurrent challenges for my weight loss clients is that they inevitably splurge, backslide, and hit frustrating plateaus. When this happens, their first reaction is to beat themselves up and express disgust at their behavior. My go-to strategy for preventing that deep dive into the black hole at the first sign of a slip-up has been to counsel self-compassion as a substitute for self-flagellation. While this approach can be effective, I think I have a better idea.
Why not take advantage of the link between food and morality and create a new way to rid ourselves of the angst of our bad behavior? I think it's time for a food confessional.
The absolution process might go something like this:
Food Penitent: Forgive me Food Priest for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession.
Food Priest: What are your sins, my foodie?
Food Penitent:Last night I scarfed down a whole pint of Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby. You know, the yummy one with the vanilla ice cream, fudge, and peanut butter swirls? And it has crunch from the peanut butter-filled pretzels slathered in fudge.
Food Priest:No, can't say I'm familiar with Chubby Hubby. Is that all you have to confess?
Food Penitent:No. There's more. I'd had a super-stressful day, so after I gorged on the ice cream, I followed it with a wine chaser. To be completely honest, I drank an entire bottle of Merlot. The combination was sublime.
Food Priest:I see. For your penance, you are to follow a strict vegan diet and go gluten-free for one week.
Food Penitent:I'm terribly sorry for my food transgressions and I pray for God's forgiveness.
Food Priest:I absolve you from your food sins. Now go in peace.
Food Penitent:Amen.
The foodie then begins anew with a clean slate. What do you think?