I hear you. Growing up, food and dieting was always a really big issue in my house. My dad took it to special levels of control and pretension - if he saw me eating something he didn't like, he'd make a comment. Me snacking on bread would inevitably lead to him smacking his stomach and going, "You know why they call this the breadbasket, right? Because you get fat if you eat lots of bread". He would then proceed to send me articles or make me read articles to get me to stop doing what he wanted me to stop doing; generally, this made me want to refuse out of sheer spite of being manipulated. In the same breath, he would use food as a reward for exercise and encourage me to eat large portions. He constantly made fun of my mother's weight as a "way to motivate her to exercise". Which, too this day, makes me sick with rage whenever I think about it; because her weight is a really sore issue with her and she tries so hard to lose it, which is kind of hard to do considering she was the only one bringing in an income the entire time and spending most of her day at work.
Even when I was in better shape, he would call me fat when we were arguing, and when we weren't arguing he would make comments like "You're capable of being so thin, you just haven't been motivated". I can't count how many times he made comments like, "You and your mom can go off and be the fat sisters for all I care." (This was also in response to me spending increased time with her). "You're inhaling your food." and yet "Ah, are those all the mashed potatoes you're gonna have?" Plus, he would always go on these odd diets - eventually working his way around to this soupy monstrosity we refer to as "Soilent Green", while, at the same time, binging on chips, nuts, and various snack foods until they made him sick. Whenever he felt like picking a fight with me (usually related to some other issue), he would take issue with what I was eating. For example, for a time in high school, I had a salad every day after school - one day he just decided to start yelling at me about the dressing. "Oh well do you know what's in the dressing?" "No. There's really not that much." blah blah blah. Things eventually snowballed to a full blown, "You're not watching what you eat and you're going to fucking die because you don't pay attention". Rinse and repeat.
So basically dieting and things relating to food were really fucked up in my home growing up, because my dad is a fucking control freak and needs to control everything. Then shit went down. Basically for about a year and a half now I've been eating whatever the fuck I want - cake, pie, pizza, sugared drinks, coffee, doughnuts. Which isn't healthy by any means, but it was definitely my response to anxiety and borderline situational depression. Because I had such bad memories associated with it, I kind of threw it all out the window for a while. When I cooked on my own I ate okay - usually veggies, meat/fish, and some sort of pasta, but at school, or after an argument or a particularly bad day, I'd just cram sugar and fat in until I felt better. For a while I could kind of manage it, because I was exercising a lot and the anxiety was also decreasing my actual appetite, so I was eating less, and then I stopped playing sports and exercising, because those were also things he actively made unfun experiences and potential kindling for a way to demean me depending on his mood.
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Even when I was in better shape, he would call me fat when we were arguing, and when we weren't arguing he would make comments like "You're capable of being so thin, you just haven't been motivated". I can't count how many times he made comments like, "You and your mom can go off and be the fat sisters for all I care." (This was also in response to me spending increased time with her). "You're inhaling your food." and yet "Ah, are those all the mashed potatoes you're gonna have?" Plus, he would always go on these odd diets - eventually working his way around to this soupy monstrosity we refer to as "Soilent Green", while, at the same time, binging on chips, nuts, and various snack foods until they made him sick. Whenever he felt like picking a fight with me (usually related to some other issue), he would take issue with what I was eating. For example, for a time in high school, I had a salad every day after school - one day he just decided to start yelling at me about the dressing. "Oh well do you know what's in the dressing?" "No. There's really not that much." blah blah blah. Things eventually snowballed to a full blown, "You're not watching what you eat and you're going to fucking die because you don't pay attention". Rinse and repeat.
So basically dieting and things relating to food were really fucked up in my home growing up, because my dad is a fucking control freak and needs to control everything. Then shit went down. Basically for about a year and a half now I've been eating whatever the fuck I want - cake, pie, pizza, sugared drinks, coffee, doughnuts. Which isn't healthy by any means, but it was definitely my response to anxiety and borderline situational depression. Because I had such bad memories associated with it, I kind of threw it all out the window for a while. When I cooked on my own I ate okay - usually veggies, meat/fish, and some sort of pasta, but at school, or after an argument or a particularly bad day, I'd just cram sugar and fat in until I felt better. For a while I could kind of manage it, because I was exercising a lot and the anxiety was also decreasing my actual appetite, so I was eating less, and then I stopped playing sports and exercising, because those were also things he actively made unfun experiences and potential kindling for a way to demean me depending on his mood.