When the need to buy special gym shorts didn't put my stomach in knots wondering what we would have to go without to afford them, I started feeling like I could "splurge." I'd go shopping and see a display of some new chip or candy bar. For two bucks, I could buy something in a nice shiny slick package for my son. That along with something other than a generic brand shampoo or soap would be such a cool surprise to bring home for the sonshine. I know it sounds weird, but I'd drive home on cloud nine, and put together a makeshift care package of these special treats, displaying them as if I'd brought home an extravagant gift. In the morning, he'd wake up to a basket containing buy one get one free new ranch flavored Doritos, some spiffy hair gel from the mark down bin (and I had a coupon too!), and Krispy kremes for a 1.99/dozen in the reduced price baked goods bin.
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This doesn’t sound weird to me at all.
In fact, I can directly relate because my mother did almost exactly the same thing for me as I was growing up.
My childhood was, from a financial and class perspective, rather interesting – a case study in flexible mobility: upward then downward, then, unexpectedly upward yet again. Or, to put it more precisely, like millions of other women, my mother experienced a severe decline of her living standard following divorce - a fall that required many years of recovery.
During the recovery period we were quite poor.
So, up till around 10 I luxuriated in middle class goodness – a huge home, a mountain of toys each Christmas, new clothes on demand, etc, etc – then, from 11 till about 19, it was a hard struggle for daily necessities.
During this time – a critical period for a person’s development I’m sure all will agree – my mother felt profound guilt that our situation was so desperate and so, whenever she could, would ‘splurge’ in just the way you describe Kell. In my case, the special treat were super-butter chocolate cupcakes from a renowned Italian bakery downtown. Each bite must have held, calorically speaking, enough potential energy to power a deep space probe.
The result of all this guilt and love? Weight gain, of course. It wasn’t until I got serious about women – at 17 I think – that I took corrective measures (cycling, weight lifting, no more junk) that continue to this day.
Much of this overeating (or, eating calorie dense food) is a way of coping, “treating yourself” and otherwise compensating for nerve wracking situations.
.d.