Up until I was about 14 years old, I saw food solely as enjoyment. I used to get really excited when invited to a friend's house to play, not just for the companionship but for the chance to raid their cupboards for all those delicious sugary snacks my mom never kept around. Food was quite literally fun to me, and eating only produced feelings of happiness (unless, of course, I ate too much).
Back in those days, the shape or state of my body was never something I thought about or something that I could fathom having negative or positive feelings toward. Why would I care? It just helped me play and enjoy food and stuff. Though, at some point, feelings did indeed start setting in, and let me tell you, they were less than joyful. Over time, the food I once so thoroughly delighted in devouring began producing feelings of guilt, shame, and anxiety. But why?