Because I am a woman and have had many women friends, I have known several anorexics in my time. And I don't mean girls like Stacey Follis, my BFF in 3rd grade who was only eating disordered in front of other people and only for attention. I mean real, hardcore anorexics. And...before we go any further...I have nothing but respect for the A Squad. I know that eating disorders are very real, very difficult and not a joke. I was a member of the B Squad for a few months, on and off, here and there. But then I got bored.
I am also aware (thank you) that eating disorders are not about not eating or vomiting after meals. It's a patterned, disordered obsession with control. For years, we all believed that "bulimia" was an after-school special and "anorexia" was a Lifetime movie. Most of us now understand that it's a big fat continuum of messy psychology involving food, control, fear and past trauma. Great. Now that I've convinced you that I'm not an asshole, let's get to the point.
Mustard is a condiment, no? In the past I have reserved mustard for hot dogs and the occasional warm pretzel. As a child, bologna and cheese sandwiches tasted great with cheap, yellow mustard. It also works on a turkey sandwich or a hamburger. But that's pretty much where it ends. Unless we get into fancy mustard sauces but we don't have time for that.
One of my anorexic friends used to eat bowls of mustard, sometimes with celery sticks and sometimes just with a spoon. At the time, I didn't know she was anorexic; I just thought she was weird.
"Why are you eating mustard?"
"Mmm, I love mustard."
Yeah, nobody loves mustard that much.
As I got older and wanted to explore some of my own food issues, I turned to books because they contain a lot of information about things. Many of the books I read about eating disorders had a distinct mustard theme:
At dinner, I made it look like I was eating Mom's meatloaf but really, I was dipping the same piece in mustard over and over and licking it off.
"What have you eaten today?" My doctor asked.
"I had a cup of mustard for lunch. And 3 and a half grapes."
When David opened the fridge, he became enraged: the 47 bottles of yellow mustard were proof that I was up to my old tricks.
I remember thinking how weird it would be to get excited about mustard. It's not food, it's a condiment.
Then I started No Food for You, my lovely food program that contains very little actual food. That's not true; I eat all the time. I just don't sit down with a pan of lasagna and fork to watch Grey's Anatomy anymore. I am very faithful to No Food for You and it's been ok. An adjustment for sure but a necessary one.
The ladies at NFFY gave me a book with acceptable foods to eat when I am allowed (twice a day) to prepare my own food. Scanning the list of condiments, I was irritated that I couldn't drown my baked chicken breasts in salsa or ketchup and mayonnaise. I mean, I knew that going in but still. Suddenly, something caught my eye:
Mustard, yellow or Dijon: 1 tbsp or 3 packets
I can have three packets of mustard???? HELL YES. I put mustard on everything. I mix it with my two tablespoons of low fat, low calorie salad dressing and dump it on my salad. I have automatically increased the quantity--and taste--of my salad dressing. Genius. I put it on my bread-less veggie burger patties, my skinless, boneless, tasteless chicken breasts; I made a mustard sauce with herbs and spices and dipped my pan seared scallops in it; I even drizzled mustard on my asparagus the other night. Why? Because I can.
I finally get it. Mustard (and Market Pantry sugar-free calorie-free drink mix--Target's Crystal Light) is now a food group. Luckily, I've never been a honey mustard fan because No Food for You strictly forbids it. Apparently, you'll turn to dust, like a vampire that's just been staked through the heart. Or a scone you tried to heat up in the microwave.
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