I just got home from a relatively easy going day at work. Sure, there was stress, but nothing unmanageable or over the top. I ate breakfast. I ate lunch. I didn't keep lunch down, however. So physiologically, I AM hungry... but figured I could wait it out until I got home. 1st mistake. Should have dealt with hunger.
I went to Ballard, picked up some of my favorite coffee beans, and went to browse through a consignment shop. Didn't buy anything, didn't almost buy anything... just enjoying the hunt.
Driving home was not too bad. Traffic was crap, but it was raining. I kept trying to doze off. That's not good. I needed something to wake me up and energize me. My typical go-to solution for everything: food. (in this case- going to food is not an unreasonable response, but still- I went for the wrong kind)
I walked in the door, dropped my shit and all I could think about was making some kind of concoction that would simulate buttercream frosting. Why buttercream frosting? I made someone a bday cake last weekend, had a piece and then managed to get it ALL out of my kitchen by sending it home with others. I was craving that sugar/fat kick. It was recently in my immediate environment, and I had dared to have a little. (It's the heroin addict saying "I'll only have a little".)
Usually, I am proud of my creative abilities in the kitchen. I take chances and create some yummy things when I dare to step outside the box. But tonight I was the wild-eyed mad scientist creating my monster "FrankenSnack". I created what I dare to count out as about 6 oz of buttery-goo that registers about 600 on the caloric richter scale. I was prepared to down it all.
While preparing my goo, "FUCK THIS feeling" I thought. I wanted relief. From what feeling? From being hungry, being tired, being "on" and not relaxed. Every night it is the same thing for me...I crave that comforting place to decompress and unwind. I want the easiest route to that place. Usually it is either food or alcohol. Doing it on my own is difficult and takes patience and planning and forethought. And goddamnit, I'm a 10 year old brat in my mind screaming for relief from my exhaustion and I don't WANT to think about it. I don't WANT to have to work at it. I WANT EASY. Instant gratification is the best kind apparently.
I arranged my safe eating zone- where most of my bad food choices and overeating happen- in seclusion, and made my altar all up. Bed made, fluffy pillow, laptop in front of me, delicious goo within reach. Ready to binge. I ate about two spoonfuls and then an alarm went off in my head as I started really considering the caloric bomb I was dropping on myself and the beautiful, wonderful goals which I was directly sabotaging. I was about to have my own Hiroshima event. I put the spoon down.
I logged into this blog and I began writing. As I write, I am tempted but less tempted. My will power battles my childish need for comfort. FrankenSnack is sitting there, looking at me. Taunting me. I don't need this shit. I need to go to the kitchen and dump this in the trash. Will I lick the spoon? How much damage have I already done? Going to the kitchen...
Mission accomplished. Dumped in trash. Yes, I licked the teaspoon of goo remaining on the spoon. I put the little bowl in the sink and ran hot water on it. I dumped my spoon in. I got my water glass out and filled it with icewater. I came back to my relaxation sanctuary. And now I sit writing, sipping icewater. Feeling proud of myself for being aware and stepping in to be the adult in the situation. Stopping the needy child who wants what it wants and trying to soothe it with breath and quiet.
Sitting here and listening to my body, I am hungry. I need to eat some dinner soon. I have green beans in the fridge and a warm roasted chicken is on its way with boyfriend. I will be okay until I can sit down and eat some real food. I will not keel over.
I know I have talked with my girlfriend who is also a self-proclaimed food addict about our amazing abilities to concoct these mixtures with which to commit food terrorism on ourselves. We each find it amazing that we can create something to really BAD for us to eat out of whatever we can scrounge from the fridge and pantry. Somehow, canned peas, ketchup, worchestershire sauce, cream cheese, and saltine crackers can be combined in some "relatively palatable" manner to make a snack that has the caloric content of three pounds of butter. (those ingredients are just an example more for humor than based in a realistic thing I have eaten in the past-but you get my point).
Our addictions drive us in amazing ways to get creative and find ways to get our "fix". Amazing experience, this whole being human thing. Now if only I could more easily accept all the imperfections and screwups that come with it.
