Once upon a time, there was a child named Tiny Tim.
One sunny morning, Tiny Tim sat down at a diner table for breakfast. A plate piled high with delicious food landed in front of him — eggs, bacon, toast, beans, mushrooms.
Tiny Tim ate and enjoyed every bite, until suddenly… he felt full.
He looked at the food left on his plate and thought: I’m full. I should stop eating.
But just as he was about to put down his fork, he remembered all the voices he’d heard his whole life:
“Why do you keep eating once you’re full?”
And he imagined what might happen if he stopped:
- The waiter might tell him he had to finish because the chef made the meal.
- The waiter might say he should be grateful.
- The waiter might call him entitled.
- The waiter might forbid him from ever having dessert again if he didn’t finish now.
- The waiter might demand a spotless plate before he could leave the table.
- The waiter might scold him for wasting food and insist he learn a lesson.
- The waiter might even drag the chef over to boom, “It’ll put hair on your chest!”
- The waiter might make him sit there until the diner closed.
- The waiter might complain that he was too picky.
Imagine you’re Tim, a child, a clean slate, learning about life. How would you feel?
Small. Guilty. Afraid that your own fullness, your own likes, and your dreams of dessert later didn’t matter.
Because in that room, the only thing that seemed to matter was the waiter. And the hope of love and approval they dangled over the table.
But that day, in the real world, none of this happened to me.
This morning, I sat at my own table, just like Tim. I felt full and I stopped eating.
The waiter didn’t scold me. Didn’t shame me. Didn’t hold my dessert hostage.
I simply ate until I was content. I did what was best for me.
And you?
Do what’s best for you. Even if it means creating your own table.
I’ll be having dessert.
Moral of the story?
Love yourself enough to excuse yourself from the table when you’re done.
And if you’re raising a child, and they’re full, and you hear yourself saying:
“This is how my mother raised me, and look how I turned out…”
…then maybe you’re repeating a cycle.
Did someone say cyclicality? Start a new one.
Excuse yourself when you know you’re done. Not when someone you’re hoping to receive unconditional love from tells you you’re done.
Why?
Because you can put hope in one hand, and shit in the other;
balancing
the entire
god-forbidden
way.