I don’t just love to eat, I live to eat. I think about food all of the time. Here is a glimpse of my usual day:
I wake up in the morning and dream about what I want to eat for breakfast. Usually I want a sausage breakfast sandwich from Starbucks, which I can’t afford monetarily or calorically, so I skip breakfast all together. I hop into my car and begin my 1/2hour to 2 1/2 hour commute. All the while in the car, I dream about what I wish I was eating (a sausage breakfast sandwich from Starbucks). If I happen to have almonds in the car that day, I nibble on a few almonds. Then I get to work. I sit and think about how hungry I am (having only had a few almonds) and start dreaming about what I could have for lunch. Immediately images of mac n cheese begin their slideshow.
I remain obsessed with the idea of eating mac n cheese until I remember I packed a lunch. At which point, I become increasingly disappointed at the thought of eating that lunch, the lunch that is not mac n cheese, but is something attempting to be healthy and cost-effective (usually bargain-bin wheat bread with that pressed turkey lunch meat that comes in bologna containers). After suffering through the lunch that is not mac n cheese, I begin to dream about what I could pick up on my way home to eat as an “in car snack” before driving home to eat dinner. The slideshow switches over to images of fries. Waffle fries. Steak fries. Shoe-string fries. Curly fries. Animal Fries. I fight the fry-urge, get in my car, and nibble a few almonds.
Then when I get home, extremely hungry from not eating french fries, I begin to look through my fridge. I have no left-overs and I am so hungry that cooking sounds like torture. I start dreaming about ramen noodles. If I have any in the house, I make them immediately. However, being that I am supposed to be changing my eating habits, I haven’t been buying them. This leaves me dejected–staring once again into the fridge. I grab whatever I can find. An orange. A piece of turkey lunch meat. A string cheese. A bowl of off-brand Cheerios. And saddened, I sit in front of the TV and eat my dinner. Immediately after finishing my dinner (actually, it’s usually while I’m eating it) I start to dream of what I could eat next. I think about ordering Chinese Food. I think about walking down the street to McDonalds and buying fries and ice cream. I do none of this. About an hour later, I bulldoze my way into the kitchen, flinging open every cupboard and eat anything in sight. Handfuls of chocolate chips. A bowl of frozen peas. A can of tuna. Then, disgusted, over-full, and still unsatisfied as none of the things I ate were mac n cheese or French fries, I go to bed. I lay there waiting for sleep to come, and dream of what I could eat tomorrow.
Every day I say I am going to change this. Every day I say I am going to get ahold of my mind and think about things like strawberries or world-peace, but every day I fail. I am seethingly envious of people who can eat a spoonful of peanut butter for dinner and feel satisfied. I am jealous of people who actually enjoy eating salad (that doesn’t have bacon and blue cheese on it). My appetite is never satisfied. I have to get this under control. My weight is significantly inhibiting my life, but every time I grasp a modicum of control I—Oh look, Cheetos!
This Weeks Facts: Weight: 211.5 lbs How do you feel?: Gross. I’ve been eating Christmas cookies all week. Small Victory: I didn’t buy beer when I went out with friends, but I’m afraid that was due to budgetary constraints and not will-power. Biggest Disappointment: I did not exercise once this week. Other notes: Damn you Christmas!