I have a problem with food. My problem is that I cannot seem to lay off it. I will go a whole day ignoring hunger pangs and tummy rumbles for the pleasure of seeing my tummy go flat, to stuffing myself full of leftover vermicelli stir fry, a Moroccan pancake, a handful of popcorn, a slice of banana cake and a lettuce, tomato and cheese sandwich.
Not to mention that huge calorific mug full of banana and date smoothie.
Why am I doing this to myself? It is madness. My mother says it’s the cold, it’s making me hungry,because my body needs more fuel to warm up but frankly I don’t think it’s that at all. Other people can lay off the food when they say they will, but I really truly cannot.
I also NEED to, because I currently weigh one hundred and forty five POUNDS.
Yes, that is what I weigh. I have never told anybody this because frankly it is appalling and terrifying and I have a morbid fear of obesity, and yet here I am, inclining myself in that very direction.
I also need to lose all my weight in about four weeks. And I certainly won’t be able to do it if all I do is think about food and drool over food and scoff food and hey, get this, PLAN food.
Food, you are my enemy. But oh, I am so attached to you. It’s like the world’s opinion of an ex-boyfriend.
I say the world, because when people generally talk about their ex-boyfriends it’s normally in a grieving, mourning sort of way.
This is not the case with me. I have no feelings nor say on the matter.
Anyhow, this is possible the third post I have written on my terrible relationship with food, throughout my scattered bloggery (yes I do own several other blogs, and frankly they have been lost in the labyrinth of tendons that is the interwebs). Everytime I finish writing a post I vow to go on a juice fast (Feast), or turn into a fruitarian, or go fully raw, or exercise for seven hours a day. So on, so forth. You get the idea.
Does this ever work? Well obviously not, since I am back here sitting and writing about it! I am vowing right now to go cycling for four hours tomorrow even though I am fully aware that I have several errands to run in town.
So what am I to do? I really am in a pickle. I cannot seem to maintain any sense of self control whatsoever. It’s awfully frustrating. I really feel as though I need some help. I can’t go on like this forever, getting fatter and fatter and uglier and uglier and scoffing more and more.
I despise myself.
Sometimes I feel as though purging would be a great idea, but I am not a bulimic person and I find the notion of sicking up food for no ailing reason to be severely distasteful. I can certainly rule out the possibility of me having an eating disorder, since I am relatively healthy and all I do is over indulge slightly.
For example, I am well aware that dairy products enhance my eczema, and yet I still indulge in them. I am also fully aware that sugar is completely off the agenda, as per my doctor’s instructions, yet I still eat cakes and cookies and lick the cake batter spoon and make brownies and actually have the audacity to EAT them!
It’s me. Completely and utterly me. And I feel so depressed about this, and hopeless, and hope that tomorrow is a better day. Perhaps I shall be able to lay off the food tomorrow. Perhaps.
We shall see.