I’ve been taught that you can’t think your way into healthy living, you have to act your way into healthy thinking. This theory has worked in several areas of my life except for one, food. I love food and there is nothing wrong with that as long as it doesn’t become a dysfunctional relationship.
Sadly, I have had a dysfunctional relationship with food for over twenty years. The way the dynamic works is on a come here - go away cycle. I admit it, I beckon the dastardly Pasta Fagioli for a one-night stand more than I care to admit, a power struggle ensues, and before I know it I am scraping sauce off the ceiling. I never mean for it to become violent but after I have already gained an unwanted twenty pounds, my thinking process is compromised.
What is so frustrating is that the disease of food-codependence is insidious and powerful and begins to fold back on me. Shame beats me up after wolfing down a complete box of Dulce De Leche girl scout cookies and then knowing that a Tommy’s double cheeseburger lies in wait only fuels the panic. This toxic, one-sided romance is taking its toll.
My boyfriend caught me having a tussle with a pork tenderloin the other night. Somehow I had become tangled up in kitchen twine. He was able to free me but sadly was unable to save the roast. With remnants of butter roasted potatoes smashed against my cheeks, I rose from the floor and expressed my gratitude. We celebrated by sharing a trough of Ben and Jerry’s Dublin Mudslide.
Unhappily, I admit defeat. Food has won the battle. I have been beaten by it until my body has swollen past the seams of my designer jeans. Paraphrasing the words of Shakespeare, ‘I have eaten myself out of my five senses.’ The course of true love never did run smooth and mine was no exception. It is time to lower the drawbridge of my wall of denial and usher in a new way of thinking, the skinny way of thinking.
I am now envisioning my body the way I want it to be. Perfectly proportioned and fit. I can see myself admiring my image in the bedroom mirror. I’m wearing that sexy little black off the shoulder dress that I didn’t think I would ever fit into again. I am smiling as I slowly turn from side to side. But, wait a minute, there is a slight bulge in one of the slit sleeves. I see myself pulling out a large Caramello candy bar. No way! I can already smell the rich milk chocolate right through the wrapper. My fingers tremble as I pull the paper away and turn from the mirror. I feel the firmness of the bar between my lips and a string of caramel drips down my chin after the first bite. I am powerless to stop until the candy bar is gone. The feeling of despair overwhelms me. It was the most disturbing imagining I have had since reading Stephen King’s, The Dark Half. I need comforting.
I will have to dispose of the large pizza box before it is found. I think I will bury this one in the backyard. I can make another corned beef casserole to replace the one I ate while waiting for the pizza delivery but I won’t have time to restore the top layer of the double layer pumpkin cheesecake. I’m sure some whipped cream can cover up the damage though. Oh my God, what am I doing? The seduction of food has overpowered me once again. Just as I feared, I am unable to think my way skinny!
There is one last option…the garlic and onion diet. It makes you smell so bad that no one can stand being close to you, but then we all look slimmer from a distance, don’t we?