A Food Love Affair
Recalling memories of past relationship between food and I bear a tale of one palate and anatomy evolution. As a young child, I was the putative girl with the inexhaustive digestive system—clearing every unfinished plate in every social meal occasion, buoyed by the cheering elders who crowned me an eating champion for they were reluctant food wasters who no longer have the luxury to indulge in excess, in fear of metamorphosing their bodily appearances. Little did anyone at the table know at the time, their admiration for my eating championship had conditioned a hypereating behavioural damage that I now, at twenty-three years of age, still struggle to reverse.
Though my hypereating disorder stayed for the most part, there was a brief hiatus in the course of adolescence whereby I stood a victim to media portrayals of rail thin beauty. The fixation on the ideology was aided by the equally preoccupied society I grew up in. I remember frequently witnessing women elate rejoicing over successful weight loss appearances upon greeting one another. Under circumstances where weight gain was announced, I’d catch a sight of momentous melancholy followed by an offering of appropriate information on the latest diet tips and weight loss doctors. I eventually caught up with the nature of such scenic episodes: appetite suppressants, extreme diets and sports to keep the hardly-there weight off, and a short case of bulimia that thankfully, ended sheerly because of the distaste for its unpleasant process; the damages were underwent between the ages of fourteen and seventeen. As detrimental as my youth’s moral and wellbeing may have appeared, the nostalgia remains dubiously amusing.
It was not until my departure from home to pursue an undergraduate study in London I began exploring food with greater conscience—or complete lack thereof. Set at liberty to a foreign land with absolute zero supervision at seventeen years old, my heuristic approach to learning found myself experimenting with multifarious cuisines, home cooking, supplements, diets, alcohol, and junk for the first time. The odious habit of overeating I developed through childhood recoiled, and my stomach morphed into a merciless, sucking black hole. If it weren’t for the universal pressure of achieving an ideal beauty—that too, had left its permanent imprint in my memory reinforced through times of adolescence, to picture the state of my body without it is unimaginable. I forced myself to exhaust the excess energy through rigorous fitness. Though the commitment promoted cardiovascular health, it was a vicious cycle in efforts for facilitating additional extraneous calories.
A New Vocation
Backtrack two years to a late summer of the year 2007, you would find me an avid graduate determined to establish a thriving startup, devoting a multitude amount of hours and abstaining from recreational activities. Ironically, the discovery of what later became the underlying drive of this statement transpired concurrently to the venture that I ultimately resolved to let go. Short of stamina and dis-eased from a nasal polyp condition at the time, I investigated ways to counteract the lethargy that prevented me from pulling productive all-nighters; Google I went and typed the words ‘raw food’ into the search field. The gastronomical term was overheard in a television episode of “The Fabulous Life Of” celebrity countdowns—the kind of television show I usually deem as futile in nature. I couldn’t help but wonder if it were fate or the subconscious curiosity of celebrity lives that deserved my token of thanks, but I was a converted sick-free, energy-boosting, raw omnivore not too long after and never looked back.
To recapitulate the preceding two years, the fascination significantly grew through research and casual lectures I gave to curious peers. All the while, the perseverance onto entrepreneurial success continued until a notification letter arrived stating its refusal in granting me further extension to remain in the United Kingdom. As devastating as it was, the return to home presented itself with alternative opportunities. I began attending social engagements and revisited the society that I had vividly described; but this time, with an inquisitive pair of eyes. And a heart.
More so than weight loss, it was the most scant comments of fatigue and common ailments that seized my attention. An impulse to deliver a voice to better the health of others kindled like a flickering ember from within. Cheesy testimony, I know. But pure cheese it was. The conditioned good feeling of constant energy and free from illnesses sends my senses frustrated when I spot a friend dozing into deep naps in the middle of the day or watch family members combat erratic jetlags. The simplest answer echoes in Hippocrate’s notorious axiom: let food be thy medicine, thy medicine shall be thy food.
Changing the Game
A short number of months ago, I made the decision to retire the work I started two years earlier to pursue a new course of service to better the world’s wellbeing. The new direction needed its own time to mature into the blooming passion that it is today and nothing was lost nor wasted in the process. With the determination locked in place, I directed weeks of self-study on the subject; both in the kitchen and public libraries located in three different America states: Los Angeles, Boston, and New York. New York’s of which was the most breathtaking home to a world of literacy I had ever set foot in, had me vow a future return.
What the store has for me in time from now will spoil me by choice, I am sure I will be that perplexed kid in a candy store. We’ll see.. Watch this space.