Hi, my name is Jenn and I'm a (insert neurosis of the day here) addict.
That word basically controls my life. The absence of it, the over-abundance of it, the deliciousness of it and the 'hey, this tastes like insulation!' of it. I've been an overeater my entire life. My first guilty memory of eating was the first time I ate whipped cream out of the tub. I may have been a fetus at the time (or maybe not, but still I was very young). My mother, of course, yelled at me but I was unfazed because all I wanted was 5 pounds of creamy,sugary fat in my belly. My dad didn't help the situation, letting me eat birthday cake and ice cream for breakfast. But once I hit my teen years, I couldn't blame it on the parentals anymore. I just loved food, bad (delicious) food...A LOT. As a result, I weigh an astonishing 200+ lbs today at the age of 28. Speaking of first memories, my first recollection of going to the doctor was when my back fat at the age of 8ish troubled my parents. How fucking embarrassing! To have back fat when I should be skinning my knees on the monkey bars! (don't worry, I've skinned my back fat on the monkey bars since then).
You may be asking yourself, 'Jenn, you have always been the spitting image of the pie eating kid from Stand By Me, why are you so troubled now?' Well, beloved reader, after all these years of Quarter Pounders with Cheese, I have finally discovered that I'm actually addicted to food. I always have been, but denial is a powerful and lovely thing. My recent troubles (or 'rehab' as I call it) have been a harrowing experience. If I keep eating like this, I will be dead before the age of 40. I don't wanna die when I'm still old enough to rock! (insert Steven Tyler scream) So in my pursuit of getting my shit together, I've been reading about food addiction.
Addiction to deliciousness is like any other addiction. It's something that consumes you, both mentally and physically. People can literally be addicted to ANYTHING. Some people are addicted to exercise (side note: I hate those people). Many addictions can be explained biologically and physiologically (genetics, brain chemicals, etc.) and some are a result of environment (childhood, severe trauma, being the last kid on the block to own a Furbee). I'm pretty positive mine stems from both. But it doesn't matter because I can blame genes or daddy feeding me McDonald's all I want, it still doesn't make me stop eating.
This blog was inspired by a particular instance that happened not an hour ago. I was in the library, arms full of audio books like the humungo nerd I am, and I realized I had left my wallet at work. Frustrated and slightly panicked, I drove the 15 minutes back to hell (ahem, Wells Fargo) to find it thankfully hidden in a crack in my desk drawer. On the way, I was angry at myself and all I could think about was how to reward myself for the agonizing drive back to work. (Side note: For some reason I have to reward myself for stupid and mundane things I do) My mind was consumed with thoughts of a chicken ranch sandwich and fries drenched in honey mustard from my favorite pig out spot, Chili's. As visions of fried buffalo chicken danced in my head, I chewed my already stale gum so hard that TMJ is in my future. (I've figured out that chewing gum works as deterrent to stuffing my face.) I thought back to the book I'm reading on overeating and how I can learn to control my scrumptious thoughts. Within 5 minutes, the craving passed and I was actually happy with myself for surviving the urge. I came home without a takeout bag full of regret.
This won't be easy but controlling my food addiction is a must. I've always wanted/needed to lose weight but I can't even begin to think about that until my addiction is addressed. It will mean a loss of comfort from my favorites noshes but I won't have heart disease in two years either (but I sometimes may still eat whipped cream out of the tub...)
"Don't cry for me, tub of Cool Whip. The truth is I never left you"