Milk and sugar, please
On black coffee, body image, and being a f*cking liar.
A note: the following talks about body image and themes that come with that. I am grateful to everyone here for reading and also acknowledge that many of us, myself included from time to time, choose to stay away from these topics. Please feel free to skip this essay now, or at any point while reading, if that’s what’s best for you <3.
About ten years ago, I started lying to myself.
“Black coffee has really grown on me,” I’d say. “I honestly prefer it this way”.
Fucking liar.
I could say I don’t remember exactly how or why it happened, that it was slow, that I just slowly stopped adding things to my coffee until one day, I had nothing left to add. I could tell you this shift wasn’t intentional, but that would be a lie too.
Ten years ago, I was reading some blog or instagram account that mentioned the Paleo Diet. If you’ve lived under a rock for the last ten years, the Paleo Diet, in ethos, is a return to the way our ancestors from the Paleolithic era lived. You know—a time where life expectancy was like, 29, hunter-gathering was king, and we lived among predators. In practice, it’s a diet of no grains, no dairy, no legumes and rather focusing on meat, fish, fruits, vegetables, and nuts (but no peanuts, read: legumes). The Paleo Diet ‘allows’ honey, agave, and coconut sugar over ‘real’ sugar.
I was compelled when I read about it—the claims in this article (or whatever it was I was reading) promised more energy, better digestion, better overall health. I told myself that these are things I wanted and could get behind.
The article was also very clear—the Paleo Diet is a wonderful way to lose weight.
I told myself that pursuing health was what was the reason to give this way of eating a shot, and if I were to also lose weight at the same time, then so be it.
Another fucking lie.