After eating a big serving of ice cream (at a friend's house, because I can't keep the stuff in my own refrigerator), I'm feeling philosophical.
Last weekend I ran into a woman who suffers from Asperger's syndrome, a form of autism. She is highly intelligent, but doesn't have a clue about how to relate to people; a therapist shows her diagrams of facial expressions and what they usually mean, and coaches her on tone of voice and the most basic parts of social interaction because they don't come naturally to her. She has to concentrate on deciphering things that seem obvious to most of us.
I've been thinking about her the last few days. . . and I realized that I've been suffering something similar with food. Maybe some of you are, too.
All those food signals that come naturally to most of the world somehow didn't make it into my wiring. You know what I mean: Eat only when you're hungry; you don't have to eat everything on your plate (as Allan Sherman once said, "They're still starving in China, and I got fat"); have just a taste of rich food; save Desserts for special occasions instead of three meals a day; one day (or weekend, or month) of overeating does not mean you are a failure, because you can start fresh the next day. These supposedly obvious suggestions are utterly foreign to my consciousness, as novel as my Asperger's acquaintance finds the idea of frowning equaling displeasure. I might know the basic theory, but I'm just starting to learn the practice.
Does this ring a bell with anyone? And does it get easier?
After eating a big serving of ice cream (at a friend's house, because I can't keep the stuff in my own refrigerator), I'm feeling philosophical.
Last weekend I ran into a woman who suffers from Asperger's syndrome, a form of autism. She is highly intelligent, but doesn't have a clue about how to relate to people; a therapist shows her diagrams of facial expressions and what they usually mean, and coaches her on tone of voice and the most basic parts of social interaction because they don't come naturally to her. She has to concentrate on deciphering things that seem obvious to most of us.
I've been thinking about her the last few days. . . and I realized that I've been suffering something similar with food. Maybe some of you are, too.
All those food signals that come naturally to most of the world somehow didn't make it into my wiring. You know what I mean: Eat only when you're hungry; you don't have to eat everything on your plate (as Allan Sherman once said, "They're still starving in China, and I got fat"); have just a taste of rich food; save Desserts for special occasions instead of three meals a day; one day (or weekend, or month) of overeating does not mean you are a failure, because you can start fresh the next day. These supposedly obvious suggestions are utterly foreign to my consciousness, as novel as my Asperger's acquaintance finds the idea of frowning equaling displeasure. I might know the basic theory, but I'm just starting to learn the practice.
Does this ring a bell with anyone? And does it get easier?