I am three days sober. Pass me a celebratory donut, will you?
/
Hi. My name is Christie, and I am a food-a-holic.
Hi, Christie.
(That was your line, by the way)
I have spent the better part of the last six months indulging my inner she-devil. You know the one. The one that convinces you it will be okay to make just one more batch of cookies. Or brownies. Or an 8,000-calorie coconut cake, for that matter.
I have also given her full reign over the restaurant menus and ordered things that were decidedly not green. Things that were chock-full of delicious carbs and fat. Things that were served with a side order of french fries. Buried under a mound of cheese. Topped with a half-gallon of sauce. Smothered in sugar and ice cream. Deep fried and wrapped in a chocolate burrito.
You get the point.
She has been my long-time companion, sitting idly on my shoulder, shouting out her temptations. And, true to form, that devilish fiend was nowhere to be found one morning when I questioned her judgement after not being able to button up my favorite jeans. She's such a fair weather companion, that one. Always ready to help me pile on the pounds; not around to take any of the blame.
So, I boldly stared at my chubby face in the mirror, and said ENOUGH.
And that was three days ago.
With three days under my belt, I can now remember that it feels good to eat well. I find myself much more able to crawl out of bed in the morning to face life (and the scale) when I'm eating healthy. I have more energy. I feel prettier. And let's face it: I'm a nicer wife and mom.
I know that I am a food addict. I crave the bad food. I dream about it. I experience a rush of pleasure every time I indulge myself in it. And, sadly, when the rush ends and all that remains is a belly ache, I feel the guilt. I feel sick. I hate myself. I have battled this demon most of my life and know how the cycle plays itself out. And still, knowing that never seems to make it any easier. It's just hard.
When your penchant runs to food, you can't eliminate the addiction from your life. You have to manage it, reason with it, and keep it in bounds. It's hard to abstain when you have to eat a little of your drug of choice every day to survive. When you have to prepare it for others.
So I'm taking it one day at a time (and sometimes, one hour at a time). I'm determined to do this. I'm going to get this beast back in her cage before the real demon rears its ugly head: HALLOWEEN CANDY BARS.
Lord give me strength.
Hi, Christie.
(That was your line, by the way)
I have spent the better part of the last six months indulging my inner she-devil. You know the one. The one that convinces you it will be okay to make just one more batch of cookies. Or brownies. Or an 8,000-calorie coconut cake, for that matter.
I have also given her full reign over the restaurant menus and ordered things that were decidedly not green. Things that were chock-full of delicious carbs and fat. Things that were served with a side order of french fries. Buried under a mound of cheese. Topped with a half-gallon of sauce. Smothered in sugar and ice cream. Deep fried and wrapped in a chocolate burrito.
You get the point.
She has been my long-time companion, sitting idly on my shoulder, shouting out her temptations. And, true to form, that devilish fiend was nowhere to be found one morning when I questioned her judgement after not being able to button up my favorite jeans. She's such a fair weather companion, that one. Always ready to help me pile on the pounds; not around to take any of the blame.
So, I boldly stared at my chubby face in the mirror, and said ENOUGH.
And that was three days ago.
With three days under my belt, I can now remember that it feels good to eat well. I find myself much more able to crawl out of bed in the morning to face life (and the scale) when I'm eating healthy. I have more energy. I feel prettier. And let's face it: I'm a nicer wife and mom.
I know that I am a food addict. I crave the bad food. I dream about it. I experience a rush of pleasure every time I indulge myself in it. And, sadly, when the rush ends and all that remains is a belly ache, I feel the guilt. I feel sick. I hate myself. I have battled this demon most of my life and know how the cycle plays itself out. And still, knowing that never seems to make it any easier. It's just hard.
When your penchant runs to food, you can't eliminate the addiction from your life. You have to manage it, reason with it, and keep it in bounds. It's hard to abstain when you have to eat a little of your drug of choice every day to survive. When you have to prepare it for others.
So I'm taking it one day at a time (and sometimes, one hour at a time). I'm determined to do this. I'm going to get this beast back in her cage before the real demon rears its ugly head: HALLOWEEN CANDY BARS.
Lord give me strength.
