Last Meal

Today's writing prompt from NaBloPoMo is "If you knew that whatever you ate next would be your last meal, what would you want it to be?" This is SUCH a great topic for me given my obsession with eating and food.

Food has always been an important part of my life. My mother has always cooked with love and she used to frequently say, when I'd come home after a bad day at work, "Have a snack, you'll feel better," and I usually did. While this might have contributed to my disordered eating, it also made me feel loved and taken care of.

To that point, when I started thinking about what I would choose for my last meal, I harkened back to the night before I left for college in September 1985. We knew I'd be gone until Thanksgiving and Mummy and Daddy wanted to make sure that I had whatever I wanted for dinner. We could go out for dinner anywhere I wanted or Mummy would cook whatever I wanted - it was all up to me. My choice? I asked that my mother make her meatloaf.

Yes, I could have chosen anything in the world and I chose meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans, and I'm pretty sure that's what I'd choose again today. It's warm and rich and filled with yummy tomato-ness and it makes me happy, and really, what more can you ask of your "last meal"? And, of course, I'd need Mummy and Daddy there with me, too, so that we could all eat around the dining room table as a family.

Food isn't just about nourishing my body for me. For better or worse, food brings me so much pleasure that is separate from its benefits for my physical being. While there are problems associated with my love of food, in my head and in my heart, my mom's meatloaf equals love.


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