Hey kiddles! So…I just worked out for the first time in 1 1/2 months yesterday with a 3-mile run. And then oops! I did it again Britney-style today with another 3-miler. I rule. And so does Mackenzie, our next guest poster. She writes the most lovely blog called whatever, gatsby where she constantly inspires with beautiful prose, inspiring photographs and hilarious rambles. And she loves food. I never leave her blog without a huge smile on my face…and I hope you don’t either.
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i have a confession to make.
i feel at my prettiest when i am eating, preferably surrounded by used napkin teepees that seem to protect my barren plate. and stunned on-lookers, in shock that i could shove so much food into my gullet and still be standing.
i feel glamorous eating thai food. my eyes watering because my heavy hands dumped way too much chili paste on my pad thai (there actually is no such thing). slurping noodles with as much grace as possible. which is to say, without grace at all.
mexican food can make me feel like a model. a burrito worthy of being held by two hands. an empty bowl full of chips. sombrero hats and dim highlighter-shade fluorescent lighting provide my contented face with more perfect lighting than a photo shoot director could even imagine.
eating a bright red cherry popsicle in the middle of the park provides my lips with a much more natural and gorgeous shade of red than what can be found in sephora.
i haven’t always felt this way. i, like countless other men and women, have struggled with this eating art. a burrito could make me feel ugly. only walking for hours and counting, endless counting, could make me feel the beauty that i dreamed about feeling. that’s it. only dreams of this feeling, it was never fully actualized. it was always fleeting and the more i counted and paced around a plate of food, it seemed to get farther and farther away.
it took me so so long to realize that beauty can’t be counted in fat grams or pounds or caloric suggestions in the back of “health” magazines. beauty is ironically the absence of all of those constraints. beauty is the first egg you eat after being vegan and enjoying it wholeheartedly. beauty is the red hue on your cheeks that you get from drinking one too many and dancing until it’s too late (once again, there is no such thing). beauty isn’t gum for dinner, but a hearty plate of your mom’s favorite casserole that she made from a recipe on the back of a soup can.
with food in hand or on a fork, for me, provides a girl with a power. the power that every angle she has is beautiful. a girl can never look unflattering with a full plate, a confidence to eat what she wants in public, and a good appetite. and nothing, i mean nothing, is sexier than a woman who, after eating a large plate of tacos, honestly and earnestly asks the question “what’s for dessert?’”