Well, I’ve gone ahead and done it: I’ve deleted all of my old posts in this blog. Not because I was ashamed–not due to self-censorship or anything like that. But because I realized that I was doing the concept of this website a disservice.
When I would tell people about my website, they would laugh, then ask what was on it, and when I’d tell them that it was pretty much a regular blog, their faces would fall, disappointed, and rightfully so. There are tons of “regular” bloggy blog blogs out there–there are even tons of food sites. But there are certainly not enough photographs of me eating on the internet.
The concept was Jordan’s, originally. “You like food so much!” he’d say, “It makes me happy to watch you eat. I’m going to start a subscription website, phoebeeating.com, and charge people to watch you.”
The URL was so good that I couldn’t not start the website (even if I would never dream of charging people for the service), but for some reason I felt self-conscious about the execution. Would such a website be too narrow in scope? Would I seem interesting enough if I was just eating food?
Of course, that was silliness. I say this as a feminist, as someone into body acceptance: it means something to be a woman eating in our society. It means something to be an omnivore. It means acknowledging that you have a body, that you take up space, that the body, as a vehicle for self, needs fuel, no matter how much advertisers tell us to abstain. Unlike many women, I lack the self-control necessary to diet. Unlike many women, I lack the desire to have the self-control necessary to diet. I don’t like it when women talk about morality (i.e. being good) in connection to what they’re eating. But I realize why this happens, and can’t say that I’ve never been stabbed by pangs of self consciousness regarding what’s on my plate
Posting about what I eat means more than posting about food, of course, but also the experiences surrounding food. Who am I with when I’m eating? I suspect that I look happy when I eat around Jordan because I’m happy when I’m around Jordan. We enjoy caring for each other, physically–cooking for one another, taking turns buying meals. I’m sure this is evident when I eat with him: that I’m happy, that I’m nurturing and being nurtured. So this will be a record of relationships, and not just romantic relationships–what do my friends do when we get together if it’s not eating and drinking? Diner food. Popcorn. I suspect that if our bodies needed no tending, we would be far less social creatures.
And then there’s monetary issues, and historic issues–what I pay for meals, the attitudes towards food that I’ve inherited or learned. So I think there will be plenty to talk about.
So, anyway, enough ruminating; let’s get down to business–let’s eat!
