Every holiday and vacation with the extended family has become an endurance test. How many specialities and treats can be hoarded for the delectation of the tribe and then how many can you refuse before your elders take offense? They stocked up just for you! How can you be so rude as to decline to indulge? Especially since your indulgence allows them to sneak just a little off your plate. They shouldn't, they really shouldn't, but just a taste, a nibble really. Here in New York, the only activity my in-laws still have energy for is eating lunch at restaurants. But does that mean we can have moderate suppers? No, it does not. It's all-you-can-eat buffets for lunch and then the emotionally freighted comfort foods prepared especially for us in the evening.
I haven't felt hungry since 8 am ten days ago and won't again until two or three days after we get home, because after a week in New York being plied with Chinese, Indian, Mediterranean and home-cooked foods, we land right into Easter dinner my parents. They haven't spent the last week being wheedled by overeaters to try a little more, just a little more, why won't we please them and eat? My parents want us to want to have a big holiday feast with them. But it never ends. The cycle is so tight that there is no downtime between special days anymore.
I know very well that it is the very cemented nature of my family rootedness that makes me want the freedom of anomie. If once I got some anomie, I would probably run straight back into the entangling arms of my family.
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