It’s not you, it’s me.
We’ve been through so much together: you were there for me during late night cram sessons in college, you comforted me through heartbreaks, you helped me get through my last month of pregnancy. Between the popcorn free-for-alls on Friday night with my mom and early morning chocolate croissant runs, we’ve been there and back with each other for a very long time. I mean, come on — what a history we’ve shared!
Things have to end, though, this time forever. My body is telling me that it’s time to make a change, time to acknowledge the fact that in light of all the recent time spent in denial, our relationship isn’t as healthy as I’ve been pretending. In fact, this is a case of abuse, and I am the abuser.
Yes, I am an abuser of food, and it’s really hard for me to admit this because I’m the type that likes to be in control, and you never complain when I overindulge during moments of stress. Well, maybe if I eat too much hot sauce on Taco Tuesdays, but other than that, you’ve been the perfect accomplice for my many mindless overindulgences.
Things are going to change … I’m admitting that I have a problem, which is a huge first step. I bought a scale to weigh myself, a food scale, and I’m faithfully tracking my daily intake. I even wrote down exactly how much candy I’ve been eating in the mornings. And I typed in that I had 4 rice crispie treats yesterday.
That’s a huge step for me, the Queen of Denial. However hard it is to admit that I should have stopped at the first mini candy bar, I’m going to make sure that I never treat you with disregard again. After all, it’s a long way from the farm to my stomach, and I do respect the fact that you went through a lot to be presentable and delectable to my taste buds.
Food, after taking some time to think, I’ve realized that I’ve been mistreating you for a very long time and I’m sorry. The first step to recovery is admitting your wrongs, and I will fully admit that I’ve used you to try to cover up hurts, but the truth is, that’s not going to help anyone. Stuffing myself with empty calories long after the point of being full doesn’t hurt anyone except myself.
One thing I’m learning is that there is something to the concept of savoring food, of actually tasting what I’m consuming. Small concept, big consquences. And, another thing, I will try to make sure to eat stuff that I can pronounce, not stuff that has ingredients that sound like they could also be used to fuel my car.
It’s a new game, Food, the start of a better relationship, and although I may falter now and again, I will do my very best to not take you for granted or mindlessly consume you anymore. I promise.