Hoarding Food

Ok, I am not really hoarding food, but I am obsessing about it. Prison will do that to you. Food in prison is a requirement to stay strong and healthy. It has incredible bargaining power. It is pleasure where there is no other pleasure to be found.

I am a white woman, who has grown up in the U.S., with being told that thin is the only way to be. There is no other acceptable option. I have had this ingrained in my brain for as long as I can remember. I have battled, as many other woman have, with different forms of eating disorders. Never severe enough to warrant treatment. Just enough to fuck with my head. Do I really need that cookie? Will I be bad if I eat that cake? Should I weigh myself one more time just to make sure that I haven't gained a pound today? That kind of food crazy. 


Prison multiples those obsessions ten fold. The prison where I was locked up provided three "meals" per day as required by law. Breakfast each day at 6 am was a "sack" containing a single serving size of sugary cereal, two pieces of bread, a pat of some type of butter substitute, and a carton of milk. All carbs with a tiny amount of protein thrown in. Lunch was another very carb laden meal with mystery meats for the protein. And dinner more of the same. Dinner was served at 4:15 pm and then nothing else until the next morning. The daily calorie count, according to the dietitian, was roughly 2800-3000 calories per day. For women. Holy shit. Way too many calories and the majority of them carbs. 


I am not able to eat that many calories or carbs at one time. It just isn't physically possible for me. So, in the beginning I found myself eating too much at one time, trying to stay full for as long as possible. Essentially eating almost to the point of being sick. Because, I can tell you, that around 11:00 pm you will be starving.  So hungry that you will be shaky and headachey. It makes for cranky, pissed off inmates. The other thing that we were forced to do was hide food from your tray and smuggle it back to your room for later. It is a humbling experience the first time you wrap up some partially stale bread in a skimpy napkin and shove it down your pants for later.  I stuck to things like bread, cake or cookies. Things that are not terribly messy. Though, many woman who have no money sent in, would smuggle anything that they could.There was one woman who would smuggle anything, including loaves of bread she would dig out of the garbage. She had no shame. I have watched as she wrapped up the nasty, greasy, undercooked chicken thighs and shoved it in her jeans pocket. The  entire key to smuggling food is to be sneaky and not obvious. Not her, she just jammed it into her bra or jeans and damned anyone who saw. She spent a lot of time on room restriction as punishment.


Food as a bargaining tool in prison is very powerful. Being in prison is very expensive. Being able to order food from commissary is a luxury that not everyone can do. I was fortunate that I did have a small amount of money coming in on a regular basis. This enabled me to order snacks and food to survive on for the long nights.  It also allowed me to trade food for tampons, paper, envelopes, makeup. Pretty much anything could be bought for chocolate!


So, back to the obsessing. Now I am out and I am eating almost obsessively. Or wanting to eat obsessively. Being sent to the work release has continued the food obsession. Again meals at rigid times with nothing in between. Neither food or drink can be brought into the center, which really sucks, as the vending machines are expensive and unfortunately they call my name way to frequently. But, the real problem is when I am at home on a furlough. There is a real thrill the first time you can open the refrigerator and take anything that you want out of it. The freedom to chose your own food and the quantity is mind boggling at first. I must have gone to the fridge ten times that first day. Not necessarily getting anything out of it, just reveling in the ability to do so. Now, I find myself eating way too much when I am out home. And drinking. Tons of cold water with ice. No ice in prison that is for sure. Can after can of cold diet Pepsi. A little piece of real cheddar cheese. A salty, crisp cracker. Not a stale generic piece of crap that you can buy in prison.


I worry when I am at home whether there is enough food or not. To clarify, the fridge is full, but I worry about having extra. Just in case. Just in case, what? I am not sure, but it is important to me.The  concept of being able to just run to the store and pick up something has not kicked in yet. I also am having great trouble throwing food away. Nothing is thrown away in prison. The food that you don't finish on your plate, someone else will.  I  find myself offering the food on my plate to everyone in the room, while they look as if I am crazy. I can clearly remember being hungry many nights in prison, that kind of thing leaves a mark on a person.


Dont get me wrong, I am not stashing partially eaten food all over the house. I love the show Hoarders, and I am a clean freak. So, no I am not hoarding food. But, I kinda want to.