I don’t know why this is, but everything is tasting so good lately. It’s as if my taste buds suddenly woke up and cried out, Good to be alive! Before a few weeks ago, I had assumed that everything was tasting to me the way it tastes to everyone, that my experience of food was normal, much the way, in the past, I never realized how depressed I’d been until I wasn’t depressed any more.
And I’m not talking gourmet here, although I’ve enjoyed great food at other people’s parties. I’m talking about the simple things: my morning bowl of flaxseed-and-raisin oatmeal, my yogurt and peach jam lunch, my ham and mozzarella whole wheat bagel, my mushroom and egg white omelet. After every home meal lately, as I get up to return my tray to the kitchen, an exclamation just pops out, always the same: “Mmmmmmm, that was good!”
I’ve started to notice my saying that lately, sometimes three times a day, and wondering why I never said it before, or at least not often. I have always enjoyed good food but can’t remember being so visceral about it. I wonder if it’s connected in any way to the changes I’ve made to my lifestyle since my diagnosis of breast cancer. Is it perhaps the unusual amount of exercise I’ve been doing that’s enhancing my sense of taste? Or was my sense of taste affected more disagreeably than I was aware of by my cancer treatments and is finally waking up again? Or is it psychological, all in my head—it’s true that I’m more sensitive to the present moment these days, more appreciative of the good things in my life.
Whatever is the cause, I am both appreciative and apprehensive. The simplest things are so delicious now, such exquisite little moments in an otherwise demanding and task-filled day, that my heart practically sings. On the other hand, it’s such easy joy that, being as greedy as the next human being, I fight craving more of these lovely food moments than is good for me.
The timing is particularly difficult now, as holiday temptations abound. Today, for example, I am going to be making maybe a hundred biscotti in preparation for my upcoming Open House. My biscotti are irresistible even to the most unexcitable palates. I may have to take this batch over to a friend, well-sealed, for safe keeping so I don’t make a big dent it—and a big addition to my poundage—before my important event. Passion for anything can become addicting, it seems, which often leads to the flight of the beloved. Why is it so hard for me not to always want more?
Find out more about Mary Blocksma on her website. Read her full breast cancer story, from diagnosis through radiation, on her breast cancer page.
And I’m not talking gourmet here, although I’ve enjoyed great food at other people’s parties. I’m talking about the simple things: my morning bowl of flaxseed-and-raisin oatmeal, my yogurt and peach jam lunch, my ham and mozzarella whole wheat bagel, my mushroom and egg white omelet. After every home meal lately, as I get up to return my tray to the kitchen, an exclamation just pops out, always the same: “Mmmmmmm, that was good!”
I’ve started to notice my saying that lately, sometimes three times a day, and wondering why I never said it before, or at least not often. I have always enjoyed good food but can’t remember being so visceral about it. I wonder if it’s connected in any way to the changes I’ve made to my lifestyle since my diagnosis of breast cancer. Is it perhaps the unusual amount of exercise I’ve been doing that’s enhancing my sense of taste? Or was my sense of taste affected more disagreeably than I was aware of by my cancer treatments and is finally waking up again? Or is it psychological, all in my head—it’s true that I’m more sensitive to the present moment these days, more appreciative of the good things in my life.
Whatever is the cause, I am both appreciative and apprehensive. The simplest things are so delicious now, such exquisite little moments in an otherwise demanding and task-filled day, that my heart practically sings. On the other hand, it’s such easy joy that, being as greedy as the next human being, I fight craving more of these lovely food moments than is good for me.
The timing is particularly difficult now, as holiday temptations abound. Today, for example, I am going to be making maybe a hundred biscotti in preparation for my upcoming Open House. My biscotti are irresistible even to the most unexcitable palates. I may have to take this batch over to a friend, well-sealed, for safe keeping so I don’t make a big dent it—and a big addition to my poundage—before my important event. Passion for anything can become addicting, it seems, which often leads to the flight of the beloved. Why is it so hard for me not to always want more?
Find out more about Mary Blocksma on her website. Read her full breast cancer story, from diagnosis through radiation, on her breast cancer page.
