[OT] Diets & stuff

(new thread to keep to the subject of diets and food, but to remove the
flamey parts)

In m,
tanadashoes typed:

*snip*

I also have the same (don't know when full) condition
as Matt does. Mine is partly genetic and partly from being force fed
as a child. Nothing was ever permitted to remain on the plate at the
end of a meal and my father dished up the food, not us. One tends to
lose one's ability to cry quits when never allowed to when young. I
raised my kids that they served them selves and all I asked was that
they try a bite of anything that they didn't like, as tastes change
over the years.


I don't know whether mine is genetic or not, but I too was forcefed as a
child, as in "you are not leaving the table until you've finsihed everything
on your plate" type force-fed. One of my earliest and most vivid memories -
and I must have been four or under at the time, because its still England -
is howling with frustration, anger and indignity whilst being forced to eat
a bowl of canned spaghetti that had gone cold and started to congeal on top.
I can still feel the slimy little buggers in my mouth and it make me want to
gag. It took me a dog's year to eat them, one torturous, disgusting and vile
mouthful at a time, and I threw up at least twice in the process, but I
*had* to finish them before leaving the table. I too have no concept of
'satisfied', only 'I am so full it is painful', and I wonder whether 'you
must eat all your are given' is the reason for it.

I don't particularly blame my mother for this - this was how she was raised,
and she was raised during England in WW2 where there were food rations and
great food shortages. She now tells me that my grandmother - her mother -
only ate only the two crusts off the loaf of bread a day except Sundays
where, if she could get the meat, she would eat Sunday Roast with the
family - just so she could give her own rations to her children.

So food was *always* a big issue when I was growing up, and leaving food on
the plate was tantamount to murder, no matter what that particular food
stuff was. I also gag at the thought of fat and offal, which both my parents
ate and still eat with glee. For Christmas, I now traditionally make corned
beef and my father in particular *loves* it as it always reminds him of his
childhood Christmases - but on the same token he always has to twll (and
re-tell) us that corned beef is a very cheap cut of meat and has to be
cooked slowly otherwise it would be like show leather - and it was the best
his family could afford for the Christmas roast

Much like Pam, I vowed that food would never be an issue at my place, which
is how I discovered that, much like myself, there is absolutley no point
insisting Cary eat breakfast when he gets up of a morning, because he (like
me) is not hungry immediatley after he wakes up and will not be remotely
interested in food until at least an hour after getting out of bed (usually
one and a half), and at that point we will eat. If we eat before then, at
the one and a half hour mark we will become hungry regardless of whether
we've already eaten breakfast at the point we arose. This is another form of
overeating, forced onto me when I *had* to eat breakfast before school,
rather than being given something for morning tea ("anything outside of
breakfast, lunch or dinner will make you fat"), being ravenous from 9am till
1pm, and then eating like a starving person when I finally got to lunch.

The odd thing is, my mother is *forever* on a diet, and she can be such a
diet bore, it has taken over her life. Sometimes she manages to drop a size,
but usually she's a size 22-24 and returns to 22-24 as soon as she stops the
diet (which she can never sustain - they're brutal). On the other hand, I
have never been on a diet and yet I am also a size 22-24[*]. I thus have no
faith in dieting, my mother has tortured herself with food obsession her
whole life and its got her nowhere except for being deeply ashamed and
miserable about her body, and I'd personally just prefer to eat food I enjoy
and stay the size I am than turn food into some sort of false god that
consumes my waking hours.

Yowie[*] An Australian 22-24. Think this would be a size 18-20 or XL-2XL in the
USA and 20-22 in the UK. The 3XL RPCA cat shirt was comfortably loose.

Nothing was ever permitted to remain on the plate at the
end of a meal and my father dished up the food, not us. *One tends to
lose one's ability to cry quits when never allowed to when young.

I was raised the same way, which I guess makes sense when your
grandparents live through stuff like the Depression and the Holocaust
and have a compulsion to eat what's in front of them for fear of who
knows when you'll see another meal.

I had to break myself of the habit when I got stomach ulcers at 24,
and couldn't hold a plateful inside. My doctor told me to scrap the
"3 square meals a day" in favour of six little ones. And, ever since,
I've bought smaller plates and start with what I feel won't be enough,
because I can always go back for more, or have fruit for dessert, more
easily than I can "waste" by leaving something on my plate. I've also
learned to return things from my plate to a tupperware for lunch the
next day, but I do tend to stuff before I Get to that point, so it's
easier to just take less than I think I need. Sometimes less is ALL I
need.

My parents, of course, feel this is hideously unhealthy, but they are
also concerned about DP's vegetarianism (and DP is a doctor, you would
think he's got a better grip on what is healthy. He gets his blood
tested twice a year to make sure his vitamin and mineral counts are
where they should be, and supplements protein, vitamin D, B12, and
Omega-3 (I supplement just D and Omega-3 since I do eat meat
sometimes) but just because he doesn't start his day with 3 eggs, 4
strips of bacon, and 3 sausages...ie 3 days' worth of meat for what
people really need....he's "unhealthy.")

--Fil

Yowie wrote:
(new thread to keep to the subject of diets and food, but to remove the
flamey parts)

In m,
tanadashoes typed:

*snip*

I also have the same (don't know when full) condition
as Matt does. Mine is partly genetic and partly from being force fed
as a child. Nothing was ever permitted to remain on the plate at the
end of a meal and my father dished up the food, not us. One tends to
lose one's ability to cry quits when never allowed to when young. I
raised my kids that they served them selves and all I asked was that
they try a bite of anything that they didn't like, as tastes change
over the years.


I don't know whether mine is genetic or not, but I too was forcefed as a
child, as in "you are not leaving the table until you've finsihed everything
on your plate" type force-fed. One of my earliest and most vivid memories -
and I must have been four or under at the time, because its still England -
is howling with frustration, anger and indignity whilst being forced to eat
a bowl of canned spaghetti that had gone cold and started to congeal on top.
I can still feel the slimy little buggers in my mouth and it make me want to
gag. It took me a dog's year to eat them, one torturous, disgusting and vile
mouthful at a time, and I threw up at least twice in the process, but I
*had* to finish them before leaving the table. I too have no concept of
'satisfied', only 'I am so full it is painful', and I wonder whether 'you
must eat all your are given' is the reason for it.

I don't particularly blame my mother for this - this was how she was raised,
and she was raised during England in WW2 where there were food rations and
great food shortages. She now tells me that my grandmother - her mother -
only ate only the two crusts off the loaf of bread a day except Sundays
where, if she could get the meat, she would eat Sunday Roast with the
family - just so she could give her own rations to her children.

So food was *always* a big issue when I was growing up, and leaving food on
the plate was tantamount to murder, no matter what that particular food
stuff was. I also gag at the thought of fat and offal, which both my parents
ate and still eat with glee. For Christmas, I now traditionally make corned
beef and my father in particular *loves* it as it always reminds him of his
childhood Christmases - but on the same token he always has to twll (and
re-tell) us that corned beef is a very cheap cut of meat and has to be
cooked slowly otherwise it would be like show leather - and it was the best
his family could afford for the Christmas roast

Much like Pam, I vowed that food would never be an issue at my place, which
is how I discovered that, much like myself, there is absolutley no point
insisting Cary eat breakfast when he gets up of a morning, because he (like
me) is not hungry immediatley after he wakes up and will not be remotely
interested in food until at least an hour after getting out of bed (usually
one and a half), and at that point we will eat. If we eat before then, at
the one and a half hour mark we will become hungry regardless of whether
we've already eaten breakfast at the point we arose. This is another form of
overeating, forced onto me when I *had* to eat breakfast before school,
rather than being given something for morning tea ("anything outside of
breakfast, lunch or dinner will make you fat"), being ravenous from 9am till
1pm, and then eating like a starving person when I finally got to lunch.

The odd thing is, my mother is *forever* on a diet, and she can be such a
diet bore, it has taken over her life. Sometimes she manages to drop a size,
but usually she's a size 22-24 and returns to 22-24 as soon as she stops the
diet (which she can never sustain - they're brutal). On the other hand, I
have never been on a diet and yet I am also a size 22-24[*]. I thus have no
faith in dieting, my mother has tortured herself with food obsession her
whole life and its got her nowhere except for being deeply ashamed and
miserable about her body, and I'd personally just prefer to eat food I enjoy
and stay the size I am than turn food into some sort of false god that
consumes my waking hours.

Yowie
[*] An Australian 22-24. Think this would be a size 18-20 or XL-2XL in the
USA and 20-22 in the UK. The 3XL RPCA cat shirt was comfortably loose.



Your folks sound just like the ones I had. Mine was The Great
depression and "think of the starving Armenians". I didn't have a clue
what an Armenian was. My father was a heavy man and my mother became
that way too. Mealtimes were never pleasant. My father became ill and
subsequently became a near skeleton. There is quite a difference when
losing weight from illness and from dieting. MLB

this is a very healthy attitude, i realized i had to lose for my very life
let alone health, if you are eakthy, and the person you are attracted to is
attracted to you then in my book you are NOT over weight, you are the right
size to get through life healthily anctively in all the vital areas so don't
worry, Lee

--
Have a great day
"Yowie" wrote in message
...
(new thread to keep to the subject of diets and food, but to remove the
flamey parts)

In m,
tanadashoes typed:

*snip*

I also have the same (don't know when full) condition
as Matt does. Mine is partly genetic and partly from being force fed
as a child. Nothing was ever permitted to remain on the plate at the
end of a meal and my father dished up the food, not us. One tends to
lose one's ability to cry quits when never allowed to when young. I
raised my kids that they served them selves and all I asked was that
they try a bite of anything that they didn't like, as tastes change
over the years.


I don't know whether mine is genetic or not, but I too was forcefed as a
child, as in "you are not leaving the table until you've finsihed
everything on your plate" type force-fed. One of my earliest and most
vivid memories - and I must have been four or under at the time, because
its still England - is howling with frustration, anger and indignity
whilst being forced to eat a bowl of canned spaghetti that had gone cold
and started to congeal on top. I can still feel the slimy little buggers
in my mouth and it make me want to gag. It took me a dog's year to eat
them, one torturous, disgusting and vile mouthful at a time, and I threw
up at least twice in the process, but I *had* to finish them before
leaving the table. I too have no concept of 'satisfied', only 'I am so
full it is painful', and I wonder whether 'you must eat all your are
given' is the reason for it.

I don't particularly blame my mother for this - this was how she was
raised, and she was raised during England in WW2 where there were food
rations and great food shortages. She now tells me that my grandmother -
her mother - only ate only the two crusts off the loaf of bread a day
except Sundays where, if she could get the meat, she would eat Sunday
Roast with the family - just so she could give her own rations to her
children.

So food was *always* a big issue when I was growing up, and leaving food
on the plate was tantamount to murder, no matter what that particular food
stuff was. I also gag at the thought of fat and offal, which both my
parents ate and still eat with glee. For Christmas, I now traditionally
make corned beef and my father in particular *loves* it as it always
reminds him of his childhood Christmases - but on the same token he always
has to twll (and re-tell) us that corned beef is a very cheap cut of meat
and has to be cooked slowly otherwise it would be like show leather - and
it was the best his family could afford for the Christmas roast

Much like Pam, I vowed that food would never be an issue at my place,
which is how I discovered that, much like myself, there is absolutley no
point insisting Cary eat breakfast when he gets up of a morning, because
he (like me) is not hungry immediatley after he wakes up and will not be
remotely interested in food until at least an hour after getting out of
bed (usually one and a half), and at that point we will eat. If we eat
before then, at the one and a half hour mark we will become hungry
regardless of whether we've already eaten breakfast at the point we arose.
This is another form of overeating, forced onto me when I *had* to eat
breakfast before school, rather than being given something for morning tea
("anything outside of breakfast, lunch or dinner will make you fat"),
being ravenous from 9am till 1pm, and then eating like a starving person
when I finally got to lunch.

The odd thing is, my mother is *forever* on a diet, and she can be such a
diet bore, it has taken over her life. Sometimes she manages to drop a
size, but usually she's a size 22-24 and returns to 22-24 as soon as she
stops the diet (which she can never sustain - they're brutal). On the
other hand, I have never been on a diet and yet I am also a size 22-24[*].
I thus have no faith in dieting, my mother has tortured herself with food
obsession her whole life and its got her nowhere except for being deeply
ashamed and miserable about her body, and I'd personally just prefer to
eat food I enjoy and stay the size I am than turn food into some sort of
false god that consumes my waking hours.

Yowie
[*] An Australian 22-24. Think this would be a size 18-20 or XL-2XL in the
USA and 20-22 in the UK. The 3XL RPCA cat shirt was comfortably loose.

its so odd what parents think, DH's mom has been to vegan and back, if we
eat out and dh orders a small steak or pork chop in the four to six oz
range, ooohhh "thats so much protien and meat doesn't it make you..."

Lee

--
Have a great day
"Enfilade" wrote in message
...
Nothing was ever permitted to remain on the plate at the
end of a meal and my father dished up the food, not us. One tends to
lose one's ability to cry quits when never allowed to when young.

I was raised the same way, which I guess makes sense when your
grandparents live through stuff like the Depression and the Holocaust
and have a compulsion to eat what's in front of them for fear of who
knows when you'll see another meal.

I had to break myself of the habit when I got stomach ulcers at 24,
and couldn't hold a plateful inside. My doctor told me to scrap the
"3 square meals a day" in favour of six little ones. And, ever since,
I've bought smaller plates and start with what I feel won't be enough,
because I can always go back for more, or have fruit for dessert, more
easily than I can "waste" by leaving something on my plate. I've also
learned to return things from my plate to a tupperware for lunch the
next day, but I do tend to stuff before I Get to that point, so it's
easier to just take less than I think I need. Sometimes less is ALL I
need.

My parents, of course, feel this is hideously unhealthy, but they are
also concerned about DP's vegetarianism (and DP is a doctor, you would
think he's got a better grip on what is healthy. He gets his blood
tested twice a year to make sure his vitamin and mineral counts are
where they should be, and supplements protein, vitamin D, B12, and
Omega-3 (I supplement just D and Omega-3 since I do eat meat
sometimes) but just because he doesn't start his day with 3 eggs, 4
strips of bacon, and 3 sausages...ie 3 days' worth of meat for what
people really need....he's "unhealthy.")

--Fil

for me it was the kids in indai... once, and only once my brother said, well
send them my spinach... the rest of us siblings decided NOT to ever say it
out loud, Lee

--
Have a great day
"MLB" wrote in message
...
Yowie wrote:
(new thread to keep to the subject of diets and food, but to remove the
flamey parts)

In m,
tanadashoes typed:

*snip*

I also have the same (don't know when full) condition
as Matt does. Mine is partly genetic and partly from being force fed
as a child. Nothing was ever permitted to remain on the plate at the
end of a meal and my father dished up the food, not us. One tends to
lose one's ability to cry quits when never allowed to when young. I
raised my kids that they served them selves and all I asked was that
they try a bite of anything that they didn't like, as tastes change
over the years.


I don't know whether mine is genetic or not, but I too was forcefed as a
child, as in "you are not leaving the table until you've finsihed
everything on your plate" type force-fed. One of my earliest and most
vivid memories - and I must have been four or under at the time, because
its still England - is howling with frustration, anger and indignity
whilst being forced to eat a bowl of canned spaghetti that had gone cold
and started to congeal on top. I can still feel the slimy little buggers
in my mouth and it make me want to gag. It took me a dog's year to eat
them, one torturous, disgusting and vile mouthful at a time, and I threw
up at least twice in the process, but I *had* to finish them before
leaving the table. I too have no concept of 'satisfied', only 'I am so
full it is painful', and I wonder whether 'you must eat all your are
given' is the reason for it.

I don't particularly blame my mother for this - this was how she was
raised, and she was raised during England in WW2 where there were food
rations and great food shortages. She now tells me that my grandmother -
her mother - only ate only the two crusts off the loaf of bread a day
except Sundays where, if she could get the meat, she would eat Sunday
Roast with the family - just so she could give her own rations to her
children.

So food was *always* a big issue when I was growing up, and leaving food
on the plate was tantamount to murder, no matter what that particular
food stuff was. I also gag at the thought of fat and offal, which both my
parents ate and still eat with glee. For Christmas, I now traditionally
make corned beef and my father in particular *loves* it as it always
reminds him of his childhood Christmases - but on the same token he
always has to twll (and re-tell) us that corned beef is a very cheap cut
of meat and has to be cooked slowly otherwise it would be like show
leather - and it was the best his family could afford for the Christmas
roast

Much like Pam, I vowed that food would never be an issue at my place,
which is how I discovered that, much like myself, there is absolutley no
point insisting Cary eat breakfast when he gets up of a morning, because
he (like me) is not hungry immediatley after he wakes up and will not be
remotely interested in food until at least an hour after getting out of
bed (usually one and a half), and at that point we will eat. If we eat
before then, at the one and a half hour mark we will become hungry
regardless of whether we've already eaten breakfast at the point we
arose. This is another form of overeating, forced onto me when I *had* to
eat breakfast before school, rather than being given something for
morning tea ("anything outside of breakfast, lunch or dinner will make
you fat"), being ravenous from 9am till 1pm, and then eating like a
starving person when I finally got to lunch.

The odd thing is, my mother is *forever* on a diet, and she can be such a
diet bore, it has taken over her life. Sometimes she manages to drop a
size, but usually she's a size 22-24 and returns to 22-24 as soon as she
stops the diet (which she can never sustain - they're brutal). On the
other hand, I have never been on a diet and yet I am also a size
22-24[*]. I thus have no faith in dieting, my mother has tortured herself
with food obsession her whole life and its got her nowhere except for
being deeply ashamed and miserable about her body, and I'd personally
just prefer to eat food I enjoy and stay the size I am than turn food
into some sort of false god that consumes my waking hours.

Yowie
[*] An Australian 22-24. Think this would be a size 18-20 or XL-2XL in
the USA and 20-22 in the UK. The 3XL RPCA cat shirt was comfortably
loose.

Your folks sound just like the ones I had. Mine was The Great depression
and "think of the starving Armenians". I didn't have a clue what an
Armenian was. My father was a heavy man and my mother became that way
too. Mealtimes were never pleasant. My father became ill and
subsequently became a near skeleton. There is quite a difference when
losing weight from illness and from dieting. MLB

Stormmmee wrote:
for me it was the kids in indai... once, and only once my brother said, well
send them my spinach... the rest of us siblings decided NOT to ever say it
out loud, Lee


For us it was those poor staving kids in China. Then Mom saw pictures
of the famine in Biafra. I once volunteered to send myself along with
my liver and onions, lumpy mashed potatoes, and so on to Biafra.
Unfortunately the old man came home a little early and heard this. My
portion of liver and onions was particularly large that night. My older
brother thought that was the funniest thing and snickered all through
the meal.

I have never willingly ingested Liver and onions, trout, purple cabbage,
or a bunch of other foods that I had to force down the gullet. Not only
was Mom a lousy cook, but half of what she made was both over and under
cooked. I'll have to do a description sometime. It makes the kids
laugh and Rob appreciates my cooking all over again.

Pam S.

luckily mom was/is adecent cook, and for the most part we took our own
portions, but sometimes we had to ry things, there are very few tings o i
wont eat because of taste smell or texutre, mostly i am allergic so can't
eat it, Lee

--
Have a great day
"tanadashoes" wrote in message
news
Stormmmee wrote:
for me it was the kids in indai... once, and only once my brother said,
well send them my spinach... the rest of us siblings decided NOT to ever
say it out loud, Lee


For us it was those poor staving kids in China. Then Mom saw pictures of
the famine in Biafra. I once volunteered to send myself along with my
liver and onions, lumpy mashed potatoes, and so on to Biafra.
Unfortunately the old man came home a little early and heard this. My
portion of liver and onions was particularly large that night. My older
brother thought that was the funniest thing and snickered all through the
meal.

I have never willingly ingested Liver and onions, trout, purple cabbage,
or a bunch of other foods that I had to force down the gullet. Not only
was Mom a lousy cook, but half of what she made was both over and under
cooked. I'll have to do a description sometime. It makes the kids laugh
and Rob appreciates my cooking all over again.

Pam S.

I don't particularly blame my mother for this - this was how she was
raised, and she was raised during England in WW2 where there were food
rations and great food shortages. She now tells me that my grandmother -
her mother - only ate only the two crusts off the loaf of bread a day
except Sundays where, if she could get the meat, she would eat Sunday
Roast with the family - just so she could give her own rations to her
children.
Your folks sound just like the ones I had. Mine was The Great depression
and "think of the starving Armenians". I didn't have a clue what an
Armenian was.
for me it was the kids in indai... once, and only once my brother said,
well send them my spinach...

My mother used to tell us that people in Portugal ate worms. I think
the idea was to persuade us her cooking wasn't that bad.

Wneh I did finally go to Portugal I didn't find worms, but there were
a lot of places that served snails, including a cafe in the centre of
Lisbon where they were kept alive in a wire cage by the front door. I
could just about manage the little ones but the beasts that were even
bigger than garden snails were a bit much..

==== j a c k at c a m p i n . m e . u k === http://www.campin.me.uk ====
Jack Campin, 11 Third St, Newtongrange EH22 4PU, Scotland == mob 07800 739 557
CD-ROMs and free stuff: Scottish music, food intolerance, and Mac logic fonts
****** I killfile Google posts - email me if you want to be whitelisted ******

Jack Campin - bogus address wrote:
I don't particularly blame my mother for this - this was how she was
raised, and she was raised during England in WW2 where there were food
rations and great food shortages. She now tells me that my grandmother -
her mother - only ate only the two crusts off the loaf of bread a day
except Sundays where, if she could get the meat, she would eat Sunday
Roast with the family - just so she could give her own rations to her
children.
Your folks sound just like the ones I had. Mine was The Great depression
and "think of the starving Armenians". I didn't have a clue what an
Armenian was.
for me it was the kids in indai... once, and only once my brother said,
well send them my spinach...

My mother used to tell us that people in Portugal ate worms. I think
the idea was to persuade us her cooking wasn't that bad.

Wneh I did finally go to Portugal I didn't find worms, but there were
a lot of places that served snails, including a cafe in the centre of
Lisbon where they were kept alive in a wire cage by the front door. I
could just about manage the little ones but the beasts that were even
bigger than garden snails were a bit much..

==== j a c k at c a m p i n . m e . u k === http://www.campin.me.uk ====
Jack Campin, 11 Third St, Newtongrange EH22 4PU, Scotland == mob 07800 739 557
CD-ROMs and free stuff: Scottish music, food intolerance, and Mac logic fonts
****** I killfile Google posts - email me if you want to be whitelisted ******



My brother was a sergeant in the signal corps WWII and served in France
and Belgium. He married a French girl and brought her here after four
years. She brought several cans of snails as a treat food. She packed
them in snail shells and closed the opening with garlic butter then
baked them. Delicious!!!