You might not believe me, but I think about food more than I think about anything else. Sex included. I’m pretty sure that this is not healthy, though I have not developed an eating disorder. If I were to develop an eating disorder, it would be of the over-eating variety. Because I love food. I also am easily bored, distracted, need something to do with my hands or to chew. When I have gum around, it’s a little bit easier. When I don’t, I must deny the impulses.
I have the constant need to wander around kitchens and peer into cabinets and refrigerators. If there is something snackable, I will snack. I will have a couple crackers, a bowl of cereal or oatmeal, a cookie, a brownie, a bite or two of candy. This must stop. Especially since I’ve fallen off the regular exercise wagon. I no longer work out three times a week. I’m lucky if I do it once. And I can’t expect James to lose weight if all I do when I lose mine is gain it back because of this weakness for snacks and sweets.
This is not the season for a workable diet. And if you want a diet to work this time of year, it’s all about deprivation. Look and smell, but do not touch or taste. The will is little match for these powers of sight and scent. And before I know it, I’ve eaten amounts of food that disgust me. And it’s horrible to admit, but there have been certain times where I wonder why I can’t make myself vomit like the bulimics do.
I get hungry more often than I used to. I’m not sure if it’s because I actually have been eating more, or if it’s because of this underlying obsession with feeding my mouth. I have begun to say to myself, “I’m not hungry,” even if I can feel a slight pang. I know when and what I am supposed to eat. I know I need exercise and to get in shape. I know as I get older, these things will become even more important than they are now.
It did not help that I just finally saw Supersize Me. I wish I had a vegan chef to make me delicious vegetable dishes without artificial ingredients or preservatives. The meals that I consume could kill me. There is something not right about this–mine and our relationship with food. I don’t want to obsess.