I’ve always liked the beginnings of things best.

The planning of a task. The first book in a series. The previews when watching a movie in the theater. The beginning of a season or of the school year or of the calendar year. 

The newness and possibilities of a beginning energize me. 

I confess that there is one aspect of a new year that never fails to leave me feeling sad and defeated, however: our culture’s collective tendency to use New Year’s resolutions to beat up on our bodies, particularly women’s bodies. 

I’m not immune to doing this myself. 

I’ve participated in my fair share of negative talk about my own body. “Ugh, delete that photo. I hate how fat I look.” 

Perhaps worse, I’ve engaged in self-deprecation as a way to bond with other women. “You think your butt is big? At least you don’t have the stomach rolls I have.”

When it comes to body image, I often find myself feeling confused and disempowered in a way I don’t really experience in other areas of my life. 

I want to love myself fully as I am...

and I always want to lose weight (I have lost weight. Wanted to lose        more, even then). 

I want to eat for health...

and I want to fall face first into a box of Cheez-It’s regularly. Or maybe Cheetos. Doritos would be OK, too. 

I want food to be love and joy and all the warm, beautiful things we experience in life... 

and I also want for food to just be, you know, food.  

The fact is that we can’t address our complicated feelings about food and our bodies by pretending they don’t exist. Shoving the yucky stuff under the rug doesn’t work when we have to eat to live. It doesn’t work when having a body is also a prerequisite for life. We cannot escape eating or our bodies or their relationships to each other. 

Food, of course, is never just food.

Every New Year, Anne Lamott publishes a short treatise on Facebook about dieting and body image. Every year, this is the part that jumps out at me: 

“Horribly, but as usual, only kindness and grace—spiritual WD-40—can save us.” 

She goes on to suggest that we prepare meals for ourselves as if we had invited a beloved guest—in her case, her pastor, Veronica— to join us.  

“... Get out the pretty dishes, and arrange wonderful food on the plates, and set one plate before Veronica at the table, a plate filled with love, pride and connection.”

This is always the key to figuring out what kindness and grace look like in action for me: I envision the sort of treatment I would hope one of my best friends would receive. How would I love and connect with her? 

If a dear friend were to come to my house for a meal, I would feed her tasty food that would both nourish her and (hopefully) delight her.

If that friend insulted her own body, I would say, “Hey now, dear one. Be kind to yourself.” 

If that friend talked about wanting to be healthier, I would ask her what kinds of foods, activities, and habits help her to feel like her best self. 

I would extend to this dear friend all the kindness and grace I could muster. 

And then I would try to remember that the Golden Rule about treating others as I would want them to treat me only works if I think I am deserving of kindness and grace myself. Every bit of me. Even the parts I don’t like, the parts that I think I should lose. 

So, here are my resolutions but not just for this beginning of 2018. These are resolutions for life. To be incorporated into my heart, incrementally, but consistently. Enduringly. 

To feed myself with the care I would feed an honored guest in my home. 

To look at and talk about my body and other people’s bodies with tenderness. 

To eat delicious food that leaves me feeling nourished both physically and emotionally. 

To move my body in a way that both challenges me and feels good. 

To let my choices be my choices and set aside comparisons about what choices other people are making. 

To extend myself kindness and grace daily in this complicated, hard, beautiful task of living in and feeding my body. All the kindness and grace I can muster.

Just like I would do for a dear friend.

This is perhaps the meal I would make for my hypothetical friend if she came to my house for lunch this snowy, blustery month. It's full of green and good things, warm and soothing, amenable to adaptations if needed. It can be vegan (as is), it can be gluten-free (use tamari sauce instead of soy sauce), it can have protein added (cubed tofu or shredded cooked chicken). Even the cilantro could be eliminated if she's got that genetic predisposition that makes cilantro tastes like soap (add some extra green onions and lemon juice to boost the flavor).

The inspiration for this recipe comes from a recipe in Jamie Oliver's first cookbook, one of the first cookbooks I ever owned. Over the years, I've changed it to suit my inclination to make meals as veggie-laden and meat-free as possible. My husband prefers the meatatarian version described below, which adheres more closely to the original recipe. 

Bok Choy & Mushroom Soup

Inspired by: Jamie Oliver's Dry Grilled Chicken with Ginger, Chinese Greens and Noodles in a Herb Broth in The Naked Chef

Ingredients:
4 cups vegetable broth
2 cloves garlic, sliced thinly
2 inch length of fresh ginger, peeled and finely minced (about 1 tablespoon)
1/2 large head of bok choy (about 12 ounces), stems and leaves separated, both cut into bite-sized pieces
4 ounces any kind of mushrooms, thinly sliced and cut into bite-sized pieces (about 2 cups)
2 cups cooked rice
2 cups cubed tofu of choice (optional)
Soy sauce
Lemon
Small handful of cilantro leaves, chopped
2 spring onion tops, thinly sliced

For meatatarian version: 4 cups chicken broth (if desired)
2 cups cooked chicken, shredded into bite-sized pieces

Directions:
Bring broth, garlic, and ginger to a boil over high heat in a large pot. Once boiling, add bok choy and mushrooms; reduce heat to medium-high. Simmer for 3 - 4 minutes, or until bok choy stems have just a bit of crunch and bok choy leaves and mushrooms are both tender. Remove from heat.

Place 1/2 cup of cooked rice and tofu (if using) in each of four bowls. Divide soup evenly between the bowls. Top each with a small splash of soy sauce, a squeeze of lemon juice, and a sprinkling of both cilantro and onion tops.

For meatatarian version: substitute chicken broth for vegetable broth if desired. Omit mushrooms. Add 1/2 cup cooked chicken along with rice to bowls. 

Yield: 4 bowls of piping hot soup.