These are the purest joys in life: cutting open an avocado and finding the perfect shade of smooth green. Spooning out the middle of a molten lava cake and watching the melty chocolate spill. Flipping a pancake to reveal an even, golden hue.

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Sometimes people will make comments to me about my portion size in meals; these comments are, very occasionally, sly, but there is often no question that the idea behind them is that I’m eating too much and that women (well, women who want to be ladylike) should control their meals. And it seems to me that when my friends and I commiserate about comments like these, I rarely find that men can relate.

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As much as I would like to be a person who doesn’t fall for traditional marketing schemes, they are very effective. Marketing is used for a reason: because it works. And it invades every aspect of our life; we are constantly consuming, and marketing tactics suggest to us how we’re supposed to feel about food. Advertisements for foods are pretty strongly gendered. Meaty, heavy, generally unhealthy foods usually target male audiences, while organic, sweet, and light foods are usually marketed for women. Think of a burger commercial versus an advertisement for yogurt. The implication becomes pretty clear when you pay attention to the patterns; typically healthy food was marketed for women because women choose, or are supposed to choose, the healthy option.

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I’m not sure where, exactly, this comes from. I imagine it has something to do with the preferred aesthetic for women: that is, slim and fit. Choosing healthier foods might help someone achieve the look that others want for her. Maybe it has something to do with the expected job of women, that they will grow up to be mothers who will be role models for children and who should be making healthy choices in preparation. Maybe it goes back to hunting and gathering, and since those days, men have been associated with the hunt and the taking down of animals, while women have been associated with the collecting of planty goods. I can’t say for sure, and I imagine that there is more than one reason behind the way we’ve divvied up which food is for which group. But what’s done is done, and we’ve collectively agreed that fruits and lighter foods feel feminine and so should be consumed by women to convey their femininity to whoever happens to be a witness.

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These influences impact how we behave, and we can see this in the patterns that emerge when we look at how people of differing genders approach eating differently. A study done in 2011 found that women tend to eat less when in the company of men than they do with other women. “This study's authors concluded that this might be because women believe eating less makes them appear more feminine, thus more attractive, in male company.” When I started going on coed outings with friends in middle school and high school, I realized that I was supposed to eat delicately (not that I did this, but I recognized that I was supposed to). At a dinner before a homecoming dance, a female friend, sitting beside her date, said to me, “The burger looks so good, but I should probably get salad.” I hear this kind of thing all the time—and I say it too. “The [insert unhealthier, junkier, better item] looks so good, but I feel like I should get a [insert something healthy, green, and sad].” I ask my friends, and myself, why we feel this way, what outside pressure is telling us to forgo our first choice food. Maybe it’s an overarching effort to better ourselves and take care of our bodies that is inspiring the order of healthier food, and in that case, fine. But if it’s an attempt to convey a certain image to whoever is in our company, no thanks.

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It can be hard to shake the feelings accompanying being told you eat too much. The eating choices I make influence how I look, and how I look too often influences how I feel about myself. After a particularly busy semester where I overbooked myself with work and classes, didn’t have (or make) time to go to the gym, ate meals at unusual hours, and snacked too much to deal with the stress, I found myself in a rough mental place when I realized the weight I’d put on. In the next semester, I lightened my load. I started going to the gym five days a week, snacking less, and cooking healthier and portion-controlled meals; I felt better physically, but my mentality remained negative because I wasn’t shedding weight. I would alternate between being hungry and groggy or eating the right amount but feeling guilty about it. I became self-conscious about orders if I ate out, wondering if my company was judging me. Instead of being excited to cook dinner, I just felt disappointed, because I assumed that, to feel healthy, I had to eat meals I didn’t really want to eat.

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I let food, the thing I love so much, get too wound into my understanding of worth. Before my personal understanding of the intersection of food and body image, I hadn’t realized how much they have to do with each other. I would never have expected that there would be a day when a picture of a chocolate cake would just make me sad. And, at just twenty two years old, I realized that I don’t want my whole life ahead of me to be spent grappling with conflicting emotions about what I eat. There are too many days and too many foods to try.

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The internet is a wonderful resource, and I learned that I can have nutrition and taste. That was step one to turning my brain back around. I also realized that I don’t have to deprive myself of snacks, but maybe I could (once in a while) eat an apple instead of Cheetos. The next step (which is ongoing) was realizing that gaining weight isn’t the end of the world. After getting on a workout routine, I felt better: I had more energy, I became more flexible, and I saw noticeable changes in my strength and fitness. I was doing a disservice to myself in ignoring these tangible, positive steps and brooding about how I couldn’t yet see a difference. Working to realize that how I feel is more important than how I look, though it can be a struggle sometimes, has helped; and while I’ve done this, I’ve been able to strike a better balance between enjoying the food I eat and making choices for a healthy lifestyle.

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There’s more than just caloric intake that motivates food; he cultural significance of food is fascinating. Food brings people together. Food lets generations pass on lessons, and embeds familial customs and traditions into dishes and occasions. My mom prepares a Thanksgiving meal each year, and I’ve started asking questions and trying to follow so I’ll be prepared to, one day, make a Thanksgiving dinner myself. One of my favorite dinners my family shares when I’m at home is fajitas. It’s my favorite because I make the guacamole, and I love contributing to the meal, I love the routine and knowing that there is a role for me that I can do better than someone else. Also, fajitas are delicious.

I’ve been lucky enough to surround myself with friends who will indulge and participate in my love of food, friends who can relate when I tell the story of having it suggested that I calm down on the seconds. We can sympathize when we hear a story of a waiter trying to convince us that we don’t need a full order or being surprised when they find that a food order is just for one. My friends and I have built relationships and bonded over this shared love of food. Whether it’s trying new restaurants or sharing established favorites, we use food as the medium through which we spend quality time together. We send pictures of beautiful foods and places we’d love to try someday over social media. We make plans for the best place to eat when we visit each other in our new homes post-graduation.

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This was something that suffered when I went through my animosity toward eating. I was unsure of how to handle friends who I had typically spent time with over food or coffee. And it wasn’t that we couldn’t spend time together in another way, more that our only coinciding free time occurred when we needed to eat. And when my friends would go out for apps or drinks, I would want to go, but no one wants to be the party pooper who doesn’t order anything. (But I also didn’t want to be the one who was mad at myself later for ordering food I didn’t feel like I earned.) But this was dealt with too, while I sorted out my priorities. Food wasn’t evil. You know what they say: everything in moderation. As Parks and Recreation taught me, it’s okay to treat yo self, as long as you’re taking care of yourself in the meantime. It wasn’t worth giving up time with my friends or missing out on opportunities to catch up because I was afraid that one ice cream come would ruin my progress. Besides, ice cream is great, and there is no life without the occasional cone.

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Being a person who loves food and being a woman who loves food surprised me by being somewhat distinct categories with differing expectations. It wasn’t something that I was consciously impacted by until my insecurities emerged and until I started sharing experiences with my friends. Loving food became intertwined with loving myself, or at least being okay with myself and finding the balance between following my heart and making decisions to take care of my body. I still find myself, sometimes, checking on what other people are ordering before I make my decision so I’m not the one with the most food at the table. I still find myself uncomfortable being the only one eating. But all of life is striking a balance, and having impulse control doesn’t mean that I’ve renounced my foodie ways; I can take care of myself and still enjoy eating. I can work out, cook healthy dishes, and still indulge in dessert; I can find joy in sharing the meals that have been present since my childhood. I am The One Who Loves Food.