This is a really complex topic, and I've actually thought a good bit about it., from two directions - that of someone having food pushed AT them, and that of BEING the "food pusher."
One of the reasons I gained weight in the first place is that my family was definitely a "food is love" family...and also a "don't waste" and "clean your plate" family - deadly combinations!
One form of "teenage rebellion" for me was a determination NOT to be like my family in terms of obesity. I began to refuse the food (and to some extent, the love too, for a time) when I was in my late teens and early 20's. Later, as I matured and mellowed, I found ways to accept the love without the food. It's easier in places like office groups, when someone brings in a dish - you can admire the food verbally without ever tasting it, and express appreciation for their thoughtfulness even if you're not eating. With family you don't see often, it can usually be managed. With close family.... much harder.
When I was in college, my mother and I had a "standard fight" every time I came home. She would cook things she thought I'd like and begin offering food the moment I walked in the door. However, being "not fat" was very important to my identity at that time; I'd lost my early weight...but it was hard for me to maintain a reasonable weight. So, I would refuse. She'd continue offering, until I finally responded in a temper... at which point, she would act extremely hurt and say that I didn't have to snap at her! I would feel both guilty and provoked. And I dreaded these fights so much that I went home as rarely as I could. (And I don't think my mother ever clued into the fact that her efforts to make me welcome - as she saw it - were actually pushing me away.)
Eventually, I read "The Dance of Anger" and learned a technique for dealing with that kind of situation, called the "broken record technique." (Look it up, young'uns.) Essentially, you choose a polite phrase and repeat it in a polite tone until the other person runs down. I chose "No thanks, I'm not hungry."
The first time I tried it with Mom, it took forever. Some way into it, I started actually timing. From the point that I started watching the clock, twenty minutes went by with her offering food and me refusing it with my polite phrase. Eventually, she ran down and said "if you want something, you know where it is." I was amazed and elated - it worked! On subsequent visits, we repeated the conversation, but at shorter length each time. I felt we'd reached a real milestone years later, when I actually was hungry and had to ask if I could get something!
As I got more confident in my ability to respond, I could answer more kindly. "That sounds great. I'll get some later" or "yes, that's a favorite. I'm not hungry now, but I appreciate your making it."
But now I'm on the other side....Fast forward... I'm a mom, and the main cook in our family.
I swore I would NEVER make my kids clean their plates, or eat a minimum amount of anything. (To this day, I cannot bear French toast because my mom would insist that if she made it, we had to eat at least two pieces - way too much for me. I still associate French toast with feeling nauseated.) That much, I've stuck to for the most part. (He never has to finish anything, but if he doesn't eat a reasonable amount of healthy food, there's no dessert/later snacking.)
However, a lot of effort goes into making food that is good for my family and that they will like. I have realized that there is an extent to which food IS love, particularly when you're trying to please someone else.
But here's the rule I eventually developed: I can offer food as love, ONLY IF I do not demand that it's eaten as proof of being loved back.
My moment of insight behind that rule: When my son was 9, I was preparing food for his birthday/Halloween party. I got tons of recipes for Halloween party food - hot dogs wrapped in dough and decorated to look like mummies, etc. However, I didn't get the reaction I'd expected from him, and felt rather miffed. All this work, unappreciated! Then I realized: He'd never asked me to do "all that work." He didn't care about the food - he just wanted his friends over. I was making all that stuff because I thought it would be cool. Which was fine - I was allowed to have fun cooking - as long as I didn't demand a particular response back.
So I went on with the edible eyeballs and other party food, but didn't ask for more than "everyone got enough to eat" at the end. As a bonus, the next year, when I didn't have time to cook, I ordered pizza with a clear conscience! (I did make a homemade cake, which he DID care about.)
A final coda: My mom is now elderly, and on a highly restricted diet for health reasons. My sisters and I have spent - and continue to spend - a lot of effort finding and making foods that she can have and would actually like. Very definitely love. Even when she doesn't like what we made or found for her.
![Smile :)](./images/smilies/icon_smile.gif)