Embracing Appetite: A Journey to Liberation

In recent times, I've found myself indulging in a habit at restaurants that's quite a departure from my usual routine. Instead of skimming the menu and settling for the "healthy" option, I've started boldly choosing the dish that appeals to my taste buds the most. It might be a luscious pasta, a savory risotto, or perhaps spare ribs with a side of crispy fries – no longer am I suppressing my desires to conform to societal expectations.

You see, there are unwritten rules about what a woman should eat – salads, stealing fries from a male partner in a heterosexual relationship, declining dessert, opting for a burger without the bun – all to maintain an image of demure sexiness. It's as if we're expected to exhibit control over food, to deny ourselves the pleasure of savoring delicious meals, as if denial itself is an essential part of womanhood.

This mindset was ingrained in me from a young age. I used to buy small plates as a dieting tactic, convinced that the smaller the plate, the less I would eat. The fear of consuming too much haunted me, leading to a series of restrictive habits like drinking copious amounts of water before, during, and after meals to convince my brain that I was full.

Salads were a must, and the joy of leaving food on my plate, though self-loathing accompanied it, made me feel more feminine and acceptable. I spent dinners fixated on the bread basket, battling my desires, willing myself not to succumb to the temptation of a warm piece slathered in butter.

The fear of certain foods – bread, pasta, sugar, butter – became deeply rooted. I lived in a perpetual state of denial, terrified of wanting, of eating, of being. Every woman understands this fear; it's not hyperbole.

However, a few months ago, something shifted within me. Perhaps it was my move to a new place, to the vibrant city life of the United States, where diversity and acceptance thrive. Or maybe it was simply the realization that denying oneself the pleasures of food was denying life itself.

In this newfound environment, I observed a change in my attitude towards food. Living in a culture that celebrated the joy of eating instead of fostering guilt and restraint was transformative. The aroma of freshly baked bread, the taste of buttery pastries, and the satisfying crunch of fries as a side dish – suddenly, it was okay to revel in these experiences without the weight of guilt.

This change didn't happen overnight. It started slowly, evolving as I embraced life outside my head, allowing myself to feel and live without overthinking every decision. Trusting myself brought a revelation: what I wanted was food – not as a secret binge in the dark but as a celebration of life.

In cafes across the United States, I found myself scanning menus and confidently stating, "I want this, and I want it bad." Ordering a dish became more than just choosing a meal; it was a declaration of saying yes to life, to desire, to nourishment. No longer did I see eating as navigating a minefield of shame and regret.

I used to hate my hunger, but now, eating feels like a revolution.

As I navigate American menus, I've realized that it's time to break free from the language of denial stitched into the fabric of women. It's time to unleash our senses, to let ourselves be intoxicated by life in the best way possible. The journey is about allowing our appetites to be fulfilled and satiated, to be unapologetically full.

I am so ready for it. Ready to be satiated. Ready to be full. Give it all to me. Fill me up. Life is meant to be tasted, felt, touched, seen, and heard – and I am ready to experience it all.

In the United States, where diversity thrives, let's embrace the joy of eating without reservations. Let's make our own choices, break free from societal norms, and savor the flavors that life has to offer. It's time to be unapologetically full.