Growing Up Hungry
Read Time: 4 Minutes
Words by Crystal James
Dinner time is dwindling to an end, yet my plate isn’t quite empty. I’m savoring my very last bite. My husband knows, he better not touch my favorite last bite or I may stab him with a fork. It’s a cute banter we’ve created. I've cultivated the very best last bite possible; a little piece of everything in one scrumptious bite. It took some patience and planning on my end. I better be the one to enjoy it. Dinner is a sacred time, it’s my “me time.” I’ve spent hours in the kitchen cooking. I prefer savory foods so it's my favorite meal of the day. I get bored with breakfast and lunch options and dinner feels like endless possibilities. It was my favorite meal as a child. I would get so stuffed. As stuffed as a mini human can. Three platefuls on a lucky day. After all, it was more often than not, my only meal for the day.
My children eat several breakfasts by 11:00 a.m. I'm not exaggerating either; they eat pancakes, oats, bowls of fruit, breakfast meat, and eggs. Then of course, the rest of the day goes something like this: snack, fruit, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, more fruit. When I was a kid, I wouldn't have known what to do with that amount of food. Not only did my mom have 5 mouths to feed on ONE very low income, I was a little picky eater. I didn't like the way cereal turned soggy, I didn't like how runny my eggs were, I despised off brand foods; as if, my future organic tongue knew the cheapness in each bite. Nevertheless, I was self-sufficient, creative, and hunger was just a side note.
Imagine this, rolling out of bed, stumbling straight for the coffee pot, similarly to the way you do it now but instead of 35, you are 8 years old. The smell of coffee eased my tummy. After making the pot without supervision, I stirred in copious amounts of sugar and cream; Starbucks had nothing on me. Occasionally before school, I’d eat saltine crackers spread with butter for flavor. There was always beer in the fridge before milk and eggs. My dad would even label his pantry items to keep us from eating them. This was the reality of growing up in a controlling, alcoholic's world.
Imagine this, you’ve entered a meeting and you skipped breakfast because you were late taking your children to school, imagine the hunger that hits during your mid-morning meeting. Imagine the embarrassment as your stomach yells, “DID YOU FORGET ABOUT ME!” Now imagine, those same feelings but you are a child in class with all of the other embarrassments that go along with being a child. I’d sit in class, eating tiny amounts of my one stick of gum that was shoved in my pocket to tame the hunger beast. I’m living proof that it’s ok to eat gum, unless that’s the very reason I had appendicitis as an adult. Don’t take my word for it, I cannot be certain.
Now, imagine walking into Starbucks, ordering only a coffee and cookie until dinner time. Now, imagine being a child and living off that every year since 5th grade. My best friend was the popular girl, homecoming queen and all. I was too embarrassed to eat from the school's free hot food station so I paid 25¢ for a large chocolate chip cookie daily and any leftovers she would give me. As I reflect back, I hear in an annoying influencer voice “Be Your Authentic Self” but I’m sure we can all remember the delicate flow of school; I did not want to be made fun of. Especially, as a young girl that craved normalcy and spent her days pretending to create said, normalcy.
Remember the 90s, way back before all beautiful bodies were rightfully recognized in magazines. Back then, model thin was all we saw on TV. Eating disorders plagued young girls. I recall sitting in class in a baggy sweatshirt to hide my knobby elbows. The video we were watching on eating disorders displayed a sad, frail girl in a baggy sweatshirt. In my mind, everyone turned and looked at me. Unfortunately, they taught us about the dangers of eating disorders but we never learned about child hunger.
My genetics gave me a small framed body but being malnourished kept it that way. I also have a fast metabolism. My friends were envious of my ability to eat 10 pizzas and still remain thin. I hated my bony hips and knees because they were a constant reminder of my hunger. In school, I helped endless amounts of friends through the sadness of eating disorders. I always felt so ashamed of the boyish figure and yet all of my girlfriends craved the model frame. I hid the weight of my secret home life and starvation in my baggy sweatshirt.
Over time, I learned to tame the hunger. Even now, I find myself ignoring it when my kids “require” a million things and I hear a million “moms!” throughout the day. I have to consciously remind myself to eat or snack between meals. If I’m cranky, my first thought is, did I eat this morning? I have to remember to take care of my basic needs first. This is coming from someone who loves food and is no longer a picky eater, give me all the food please! The residual effects of hunger come back sporadically by subconsciously ignoring the feeling and even in a childish stingy way with my food. I have to catch myself, remembering to share the last piece of chicken or bacon with my adorable children. Everything is a conscious effort now. Those old habits that I formed as a child still linger.
To be clear, I didn’t pen this sad story as a way to shame my mom or my upbringing. She worked very hard and made sure we had dinner on the table. If anything, she wasn’t aware of just how little we ate during the day while she was at work. I wrote this essay to bring awareness to child hunger. It is extremely prevalent in the US. Especially right now, as the pandemic has devastated our economy and has kept children out of school where they would typically have access to options. I urge you to contribute to local food banks and donate what you’re able to. We need to come together to support families that are suffering.
I’m proof that children are in fact, resilient, however, no child should feel alone in their hunger pangs.
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About the Author:
Crystal is a mother of two young children with a love for all forms of art. She enjoys dabbling in writing and mediums of charcoal, pastel, and stippling.
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