We can all blame it on our mothers. The tragic pain of not being met with unconditional love, especially when it comes to our bodies. My mother, like many others, started to critique my body around the age of 9. My body became every reason why I was not accepted into the “skinny equals healthy” culture. And now with social media on a rise, I come across the ‘‘what I eat in a day’ trend, where most talk about cutting calories and preach that every carb is the devil itself. But I love bread and I know I am not the only one. 

When I was 16 years old, I developed a pretty serious eating disorder, where the goal was to be below 100 lbs. My German and Polish ancestors, probably still rolling in their graves, blessed me with hip dips, love handles, and thighs that represent the strength that a woman can hold. At Least that’s what I like to believe. 

My body has gotten me up mountains and down river bends. It has proven time and time again that it can heal most wounds, even the ones that are internal. So, as I got older, I became more attuned with the inner feminist that just wanted to eat bread and be left alone. Thus, I began cooking. I found peace in knowing what I was putting in my body. The nourishment from each food, and yes even the fat. 

And so I began to learn that food can heal. The fear of eating carbs started to disappear and I started to enjoy eating pasta again, especially when it was made with my own hands. I want to share the recipes that helped me learn how to love myself again. The food that helped bring the light back to my life, where it focuses more on balance rather than restriction.

-Sarah