This is an essay analysing stock images as part of a series included in The Mutual Dislike Reader, which is a special edition of my zine Mutual Dislike.
Here, the wretches of the internet want us to believe that ‘mealtime’ or ‘dinner’ is split neatly into two camps: one is a family eating together and toxicly upholding heterosexuality. The other is a solitary man making himself some kind of meal replacement shake. We’re going to examine how both of these framings of ‘having a meal’ slowly erode away our collective understanding of what ‘mealtime’ is, and leave us only with a strange, degrading ritual where we insist that we enjoy chopping vegetables, and that we actually prefer Huel to real food.
First lets unpack the contents of the ‘family unit’ mealtime photographs — believe me, there’s a lot to get through. I would like to point out that I did not specially curate these photographs so that all of them contained someone passing the salad while joyfully screaming with laughter — that’s literally how all the photos look. There is not a single family out there who doesn’t expressly ignore all the other food on the table besides the vegetables. God forbid we see a member of this perfect colgate-toothed family pass THE BUTTER.
Because that’s really what this is all about, isn’t it? This isn’t a family at all, it’s just a superficial signifier for success — these images should represent the absolute dizzying peak of your inner most desires. Mealtimes should be so warm and loving that you don’t feel the need to debase yourself by eating even one ounce of carbohydrates. True happiness is when you actually enjoy eating an undressed salad that was chopped by your own child under your patient supervision.
My god, all these salads look awful. Look at them; look how dry.
Something else to note is what, according to these photographs, makes up the family unit. It appears to be telling us that a ‘family’ is a heterosexual couple with at least one child. There is no space here for any one else. What about three cousins who live together? What about the solo gardener who considers their prized squash a member of their family? What about THOSE people?
These stock families are so clearly managed with an authoritarian hierarchy; everyone must eat together; food comes at specific points in the day and consists of whatever the parents think is best; children may participate in preparation, but only the rudimentary things (like putting bad salad in a bowl) so that it resembles play, and not the serious business of cooking.
Now let’s look at the solo man making a protein shake. The first thing to note is that he is not young — he’s someone with hairs on his arms, and is old enough to know what’s good for him. He’s a no-nonsense sort of person; that’s clear from his plain tech CEO t-shirt, and of course his taste for meal replacement products.
The ‘no-nonsense’ of using protein powder as your ‘meal time’ actually brings us the most nonsense of all: it’s the comical precision of how he measures every scoop of powder and mixes it with just the right amount of liquid, all with special dedicated equipment for minimal clean up. This man thinks he’s a scientist; an artisan. He has no one — no room mates, no family — getting in the way of this meal. He only has gym buddies.
These images don’t show any smiling happy faces — just the product itself, and a pair of manly arms. This man is tethered to nothing, except maybe his phone, which is light, small, and completely under his control. He’s probably listening to a podcast; he’s seeping knowledge into his brain while he nourishes his body with perfect, nutrient-rich food. He has never been more satisfied.