I've always prided myself in having a good memory, and sometimes my stomach does an even better job than my brain.
It seems not to forget so much as a stray, fleeting thought about whether hey, maybe I'm not that hungry and will be able to skip my snack and maybe lose some weight. The minute I so much as threaten it with slightly less food, it asserts itself. Oh yeah? It seems to say. You will be convinced you're starving all day today.
That's what happened today. I ate my breakfast and immediately wanted more. (Remember the Operation game, where the object was to lift out the little plastic bone or kidney without touching the sides? Sometimes I feel like my food does that in reverse – it goes down without touching anything, meaning I feel like I could eat the meal again immediately. And maybe another four times after that.)
I waited out the urge to eat my morning snack right after breakfast and – as I left the gym – thought to myself: Wow, I could totally live like this. I'm not hungry. And then immediately I thought: Hmmm, maybe I'm eating too much? Maybe I should cut back a little bit? I sat down to do my 45 minutes of fiction-writing at 11 and realized I actually hadn't eaten my snack yet. Like, had almost forgotten about it.
I told myself to eat it anyway, because I know any kind of restriction can lead to bingeing – and because I am determined to get to 30 days without a binge. And all day – even though I ate the usual meals – I was hungry. How hungry? Tonight, so much so that I had to have my extra snack.
It probably didn't help that today brought another invitation I decided I was better off turning down: To a barbecue and beer tasting on Saturday. I am a disaster when it comes to eating food off trays or in a parade of little bits – for years my tried-and-true strategy was no party-eating standing up, and I have always struggled with tapas and mezze. I don't really like beer – or, for that matter, a lot of barbecue (I am not a fan of spicy sauces, or a lot of any kind of sauce). Not, of course, that either of those dislikes would stop me from consuming vast amounts if I got started. Which I am not even giving myself the option of doing, at least not this Saturday.
It occurred to me tonight that maybe the hunger was for a bigger life, because mine feels awfully small at the moment. But bingeing is all about instant gratification, about fear that there will never ever be enough and that my turn will never come. I have to believe that someday it will – if I can stop bingeing long enough.
Day 22.
Day 22.
Sometimes I think that aside from the main fear of 'there will never be enough' one of my main fears is 'there was enough, but you weren't healthy enough to realize it' -- healthy in both the physical and emotional sense. If there really never was enough, then my dissatisfaction would be more acceptable? It wouldn't be my fault? But if it's about me not seeing that there was enough because I didn't/don't work hard enough on myself, then blame, blame, blame, all reflected back on me.
ReplyDeleteI totally related to this... though the blame-blame-blame is its own addiction, isn't it: addiction to feeling bad about oneself?
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