It's no secret that I have an addictive personality. I know that I could very easily become a drug addict or an alcoholic. Food is one thing I've had a life-long struggle with. I love food and I hate food. It brings me some of my greatest joys and greatest sorrows. Unfortunately food isn't something that you can just kick the habit and make sure you aren't around it any more. Food is everywhere. Every single place you go you will see food of some type. Think about it... How many times do you walk down the street and NOT walk by a Starbucks. Even when you go somewhere to enjoy "nature" you run in to busy stores selling ice cream, 1/2 pound hamburgers and greasy fish and chips. You cannot escape food.
I was fat as a little kid. I remember first thinking I was fat when I was about six. I realized then that I didn't fit into my clothes like the other kids did and I couldn't run around with them. That is where the struggle all began. By the time I was nine or ten I was sneaking Seventeen magazine into my room reading the diet and exercise tips, trying to figure out just how to lose the extra chub. The real story began sometime in the seventh grade when I picked up a seemingly harmless article about eating disorders. That article rooted itself into my brain as I thought, "hey, I can do that!" This was at a time when I still blamed my mom for making me fat with her cooking, so I figured, "HEY! If mom's cooking makes me fat then I just won't eat it!" So, I began to plot how I would be able to get away with not eating.
It started with giving away lunches. My mom's delicious chicken sandwiches were always a big hit. Now that I have to pack my own lunch I wish desperately that I had enjoyed more of those sandwiches. Next on my list of things to go was breakfast. I would get up, clatter around the kitchen and then pour myself four Cheerios and some milk. That was breakfast. Then, I started to feed most of my food to the dog, reserving the vegetables for myself. Finally, I became a strict vegetarian.
This "diet" went on and on and on for about four years before it finally ended up with three months of hospitalization. Just prior to going in to the hospital my hair started to fall out in clumps every time I took a shower. I would randomly shake uncontrollably because my blood sugars were so out of whack. I was on the short track to death. At the hospital they would force feed me whole milk flavoured with "purple." I won't go as far as calling it grape, even though I think that's what it was supposed to be. It was miserable and lonely in that place, so miserable and lonely that one night I finally cracked and asked my Dad to bring me a banana split.
Flip addictions.
Yes, it all started out as an addiction to NOT eating. An addiction to being thin. Up until the end it was easy to be a "thin" addict. After the first few weeks of hunger I didn't find it hard to say no to food. I LIKED the hungry feeling I had... it was just a slight reminder that I was making myself more beautiful. But, after that first bite of banana, pineapple and ice cream after literal years of not touching the stuff my body wanted more. A lot more. And it wanted it all now.
So, with that I started to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Hell, I had a few pounds to gain back so why NOT have a full fat frappuccino with a fudge brownie on the side? Unfortunately it didn't stop after I gained a few pounds back. They just kept coming. For a brief moment I attempted bulimia. It's not so bad... you get to have your cake and eat it (twice) too right? However, shortly after I started that I realized I am not built to vomit up everything I eat. I hate throwing up too much and I was scared for the life of my teeth, more so than the fit of my 31 jeans. However, I did get the binging portion of bulimia down to a tee. I just didn't happen to rid myself of the calories post-binge. I vividly recall one trip for food in which I managed to consume two cheeseburgers, a Tim Horton's sand which, a KFC wrap some doughnuts and a Blizzard. That is never good for the waist.
Fast forward a few years and I had graduated and was moving out to the big city to chase my dreams and the "love of my life" (who turned out to be a real asshole... but we can talk about that another day). With lack of funding, thanks to the aforementioned boyfriend not having a job and me being employed at McDonalds and going to school full time. We didn't have a car, and most often we didn't have money for the bus either. So, this meant a lot more walking and a lot less eating. I was finally at a healthy weight, although I didn't feel healthy. I think this was mostly in part to the fact that I hadn't eaten a vegetable in months and most of my meals were Chicken McNuggets stolen at work and choked down really quickly in the freezer before anyone noticed. Nothing like two smokers living together on six hundred dollars a month.
I was finally happy with myself. I was a good weight. I was in the best shape of my life. The only downside was that I was hungry. I couldn't ignore the hunger like I did when I was anorexic. The anorexia was amazing motivation to ignore the hunger. When I was hungry due to poorness it was a whole different story. I was fortunate not to lapse back into my anorexic habits, but it made the hunger miserable. I noticed that I was hungry. I WANTED to eat. I just couldn't afford it. Then, I finished college and got a "big girl" job. I was making money. I was eating three meals a day. I was driving. I was sitting on my ass ten hours a day.
That brings us today. I am sitting here (big surprise, sitting) at least seventy pounds heavier than I would like to be. And seventy pounds still keeps me at "overweight." I desperately need to lose this. I need to eat healthier and exercise more, but I have gotten so used to gorging myself and sitting on my ass I don't have the energy to do anything. What happened to the girl who loved yoga? I attempt it, but somehow after a day of being good, eating a lot of fruits and vegetables and drinking lots of water I come home and eat a bag of chocolate chips on top of a pint of ice cream (yes, that seriously was dinner tonight). I need to get off my ass and do something. I need to find my will power. What scares me about that though is once I start doing those things I find myself slipping in to old habits... such as "Why eat an apple when I can eat nothing at all?" or "Why only be on the treadmill for thirty minutes when I can do it for two hours?" Yes, I've found myself at the gym two and a half hours after I got there, and that terrifies me. I can't lapse back into that... but it seems so easy. So easy to make that happen again. I keep trying to convince myself that four or five months of minimal caloric intake won't hurt me, but I know it will.
So, with that, I still haven't worked anything out in my head that I haven't already figured. Exercise in moderation is good. Food in moderation is good. Starving is not. So what do I do? Do I make the right choice and do this the hard way? Or do I take the quick and easy route and just git 'er done?
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