Reflections From a Plate of Pasta

I keep my kitchen very functional and am intentionally choosy which appliances and gadgets I give space to. I recently got it in my head that I wanted a pasta roller and cutter. There was a part of me that delighted in the idea of making homemade pasta, despite the fact that it doesn’t get much easier than opening a conventional box and dumping it in boiling water for 10 minutes. Rationality aside, I made the purchase.

The kids and I eagerly added homemade Fettuccine Alfredo to the meal plan. We made the dough. Rolled it out, again and again, until we had delicate thin sheets. Then we cut the longest fettuccine noodles we had ever seen. The entire process was so pleasing, despite the mess. When it came time for dinner, I heated up some garlic and butter in a saucepan. I added heavy cream, heaps of grated Parmesan, and ground black pepper. We tossed in the cooked noodles and enjoyed every delicious bite.

I feel grief in these moments, which is sometimes a bummer now that I allow myself to feel all emotions. I feel sad for the version of myself who missed out on so much of her life trapped in the misery of her eating disorder and fear. But I also feel hope, and pride for who I have become. Recovery makes even a simple plate of pasta an insightful experience. Here are a few of my reflections brought to you by some homemade Fettuccine Alfredo.

I allowed myself to enjoy the pasta. This is not necessarily a conscious decision anymore (though it was for years earlier in my recovery). I did not change how I ate prior to or after this meal, or how I exercised in anticipation of it. I don’t give food that kind of power anymore. I ate a satisfying amount, knowing I could eat again later if and when I wanted to. Unconditional permission helps put you and your body on the same team.

Was this the most balanced meal? Probably not. I generally feel pretty good when there are some vegetables on my plate. But did it matter here? Nope. I don’t need to live by diet culture’s over-generalized rules anymore. There is room for it all.

I used to only feel safe eating foods in packaging because I needed access to the nutrition facts (the irony is not lost on me here!). Now I love baking my own bread or making homemade pasta. I do not need to measure and calculate every morsal that I am eating. I can trust the feedback my body gives me as to what feels good and satisfying. I don’t always get it right, and that’s okay, my body knows how to handle that too.

It took me years to get to this point, where my relationship with food and my body feels relaxed and balanced. Start by asking yourself, how do I want to feel? And then take small steps to bring you closer to that.