12/17/2023 0 Comments Tv trays![]() ![]() ![]() It’s the time to bust out the TV trays.īeyond their symbolic power, TV trays are also just practical. It’s the time to turn your brain off, to become less aware of the aches and pains in your body, of the steadily encroaching walls of your house, of the fact this is the sixth day in a row you’ve eaten the same pan of pizza beans. Being ill or sad or trapped inside our house during a pandemic is not the time for being mindful. Mindfulness is the reason we tell ourselves we shouldn’t eat in front of the TV, and it’s the exact reason why, when I was sick, I was encouraged to. It’s also a fuck ton of work, a little stressful, and generally counterproductive during these times when honestly what you really need is an escape. The idea is that by being mindful of the act of eating - and not, say, zoning out to Golden Girls re-runs while you munch - you’ll appreciate the meal more and avoid accidentally eating an entire box of Captain Crunch by yourself, if for some reason that’s a concern for you. ![]() This philosophy extends to taste in the form of mindful eating: focusing intensely on each bite, of the sensations of chewing and swallowing, of the various flavors and textures, all with minimal distractions. There’s been a lot of talk over the last several years about mind fulness - an extension of meditation that encourages you to be acutely aware of your surroundings at all times, of the tactile feelings of sitting or standing, of your own breathing, of the sounds and smells around you. But my love for the TV tray had less to do with its spot-on branding, and more with what it symbolized: an invitation for mindlessness. Keep in mind that to a kid in the 1980s, Strawberry Shortcake had the hype equivalent of Frozen, Trolls, Timothée Chalamet, and Animal Crossing combined. Now, these were not just any TV trays - these were Strawberry Shortcake TV trays, with a pair of metal legs that folded out to elevate the tray a few comfortable inches over your lap. But on those special days, my mother would bring out my bowl of Jell-O or stack of Saltines on one of a quartet of old metal TV trays we kept in the broom closet. There were only a handful of occasions when eating and watching were allowed to happen simultaneously, and these most often involved somebody (usually me) being sick. Mine was one of those mythical families that gathered together around a table most nights and like, talked, over dinner. I wasn’t allowed to eat in front of the TV growing up. ![]()
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