Empty Calories

Content warning: weight, calories, body talk

As we approach summer here in the panhandle of Florida, the cicadas are chirping a little louder and the sweat stains on my t-shirts are even more prominent. 

With the promise of heat comes the promise of shorts and tank tops. I’ve always hated the summer. Not just because of the rising temperatures that we experience here in “lower Alabama,” but because I can no longer hide my body behind jeans and sweaters and hoodies. 

My relationship with my body has been a complicated one for years. I grew up in a body-neutral environment. My mother never made comments about her body or ours, always letting our bodies just be bodies. But once I hit middle and high school, she didn’t have control over the media or kids at school and what they had to say about all the changes I was experiencing. As I began to develop a curvier body, people around me began to notice. I was cat called for the first time on my way home from the bus stop freshman year. A friend of mine pointed out my lopsided chest (uneven tittie committee!!) and suddenly I began to notice the pieces of me that didn’t match up to those around me. 

At a Thanksgiving dinner a few semesters after graduating college, a distant relative of mine made the comment, “someone has gained some weight since college!” Being the only recent graduate in the room, I froze, my back to her. In a flurry of emotions I chose to ignore the comment, turning away and finding my mom and my partner. Tears filled my eyes and I did my best to not let anyone see. The pre-dessert comment wasn’t welcome and didn’t make filling my plate an easy task. 

Banana pudding has been my maternal family’s go-to dessert for gatherings for as long as I can remember. With layers of vanilla wafers, sliced bananas, whipped cream, and sweetened condensed milk, I have vivid memories of exclamations coming from the kitchen, everyone wondering “did nanny make banana pudding?!” It’s become a recipe my aunts and grandmothers and mom have all tried to replicate, but it’s never quite as good as nanny’s. 

There’s this idea of “empty calories” that I absolutely despise. When a food isn’t micronutrient dense, it’s considered to have empty calories like that in soda, energy drinks, donuts, candy, and the tried and true family special of banana pudding. This bothers me because as someone who has struggled with disordered eating, I’ve had to learn that these calories are never empty. They are so very full. 

My latte at the local coffee shop is shared over laughs with my lover and words scrawled across the page. 

The soda I drink with popcorn and candy late on Saturday night is filled with laughter and “shh don’t talk over the movie” with my parents and little brothers. 

Energy drinks on the way to Pensacola to visit my lover and future home. 

Sonic stops with Brodee and Kai after a long day at school. Limeades for Kai and I, blue raspberry slush for Bro. 

Something sweet and something savory after a late night smoke, accompanied by videos dashing across my TV screen. 

Birthday pizza, beer, and cake, hands reaching over to share slices and try each other's ciders and ales. 

Whether it be a creation off social media, a new food, or a fun drink (bevvy girls where ya at?) taste tests with my partner as we try something new together will forever be a favorite moment of mine. 

And so, as I sit here writing this piece munching on donuts from my hometown coffee shop I work at, I am reminded as icing waltzes on my tongue that these calories are seldom empty. They are full of experiences and relationships and laughter and adventures. They are rich and full and so damn delicious. 

As the heat ramps up, these empty calories will stick to my arms, my thighs, my stomach, and my chest and I will wear them with pride.

This summer, I’m not going to let my body get in the way of experiences and photos and the clothes I want to wear. I’ve been conditioned to believe I am not worthy of taking up space and that I should shrink myself down a few sizes in order to be worthy of feeling beautiful. If this is the first or the 500th time hearing it, let me be the one to tell you that you can take up as much space as you want and look damn good doing it. 

Here’s to a summer of tank tops and tiny bikinis and shorts that show off my thighs adorned with stretch marks. 

Here’s to fueling our bodies. 

Here’s to saying “Hell yes!” to “empty” calories. 

Here’s to battling the Florida heat with pool days.

Here’s to flaunting all the weight I’ve gained since college.