Food For Thought

In Chapter 12 of The Handmaid’s Tale, Offred’s description of her internal struggles presents feelings of reflectiveness and dejection in me. On page 65, she says “I think of the others, those without. This is the heartland, here, I’m leading a pampered life,…and I start to eat the food.” When I first read this part I was immediately taken aback at just how much control is taken from Handmaids. They are supposed to feel thankful for everything, despite having nothing they can truly call their own, not even their own life. They have barely any autonomy over their own decisions or actions. This quote stuck out to me because of my relationship with food at times. I took away my freedom not to eat because I didn’t want to seem wasteful or unappreciative. Food waste is a problem because I care about the environment, but eating to the point where I feel overstuffed isn’t good for my body or health. I have to keep myself from overeating and try to do things to cut down my portions.

Though my situation is quite different from Offred’s as she has to worry about being reported for wasting food, the external circumstances of forcing yourself to eat still stand. I felt obligated to clear my plate, yet the health problems I could be at risk of because of weight gain from overeating sit at the back of my head. There is a never-ending internal debate between my morals and my health, but I am constantly working through them to better myself. There’s a lot that can be changed about my relationship with food, but Offred does not have the luxury of improving her quality of life like I do, which is why this quote had such an impact on me. It really made me realize that I can grow and I don’t need to be forced into “gratefulness” just because of what I have access to.

I also connected to the part of the chapter on page 66 where it says “In my stomach the food balls itself together, a handful of damp cardboard, squeezed.” This part initially made my stomach turn. I was reminded of a time when I was in a similar situation. I have also had points where I forced myself to eat despite not wanting to because of the emotional state I was in. I once got furious after an argument with a family member and burst into tears, but it was in the middle of dinner so I had to go back and finish my food despite not wanting to. I let myself calm down and, after a while, went back to finish my meal. You have an obligation to yourself to provide sustenance for your body, but being in a bad emotional state, whether it’s nerves or rage, keeps you from doing so. It’s hard to take care of yourself while regulating your emotions and keeping yourself calm in front of others, but it is also healthy to let your emotions out loudly, however difficult it may be to do so. For me, the food didn’t necessarily feel like damp cardboard, but an unwanted, yet remaining presence that irritated me. It felt like the cause of my anger personified, something I could not get rid of and would thus have to learn to live with.

On page 66, it also says “My self is a thing I must now compose, as one composes a speech. What I must present is a made thing, not something born.” When I first read this quote, I understood Offred completely and sympathized with her. Society creates a space where people often don’t feel comfortable presenting their authentic selves to the world. When people say they have to keep their composure, they have to maintain the “made self” they have created for public viewing, despite it being extremely challenging when humans aren’t robots that can become emotionless at the drop of a hat. I have done the same in the past because it is easier to deal with things on your own than with other people. Perfection was an image I wanted to portray, and I wasn’t being myself for fear of rejection and unacceptance. I know now that you shouldn’t live your life like that, but past me wanted to seem smart, kind, and incapable of mistakes, always having the right answer. I’ve learned from all of these experiences to focus on what is best for me instead of what some non-existent or irrelevant person thinks of me.