Thursday, November 4, 2010


My concentration for my everyday tasks disappeared on about the third or fourth day of the cleanse. I had no ability to focus on anything else other than food. I was not eating any of it. I could not stop thinking about that, and became obsessed with the thought. My body would be OK with not putting food into it, for 10 days. This amazed me. 
 I longed for food. I dreamt about it. I cooked my brains out all week. All the meals I wanted to have, I made. On Halloween, I made a big pot of Chili. I had all of the sides put out. Scallions, and cheddar cheese. Even sour cream. I watched the girls sink their teeth into Reeses Peanut Butter cups, and Sugar Babies, enviously. My parents were visiting, so the wine was free flowing, and I watched everyone else drink it, and saw the relaxed looks come over their eyes, and I could feel the swell of laughter, and giddiness, rise in the room. It reminded me of being pregnant, and going to parties, and being the only clear thinking one in the room. Now this time, I had the only clear head, and stomach.  
I made Chicken Florentine another night. A wonderful sauce consisting of shallots and garlic, white wine, and heavy cream. And butter. Oh, beloved butter. I watched it bubble in the saute pan, and drool started to pool at the corner of my lips, like a bull dog's. I made sauteed spinach with more garlic. The smells were intoxicating. I watched everyone help themselves to seconds. It was torturous. Yet, it was freeing.
Food seems to be an all consuming matter for me. Always was. I love it, and deeply hate it. I run to it for comfort. I flee from it like a prisoner. I think about my next meals, and enjoy them, as I am eating them, only to be filled with anger, and frustration, after they are consumed. I have been a size 0, and I have been a size 16. I have a closet filled with sexy pants, and fat Mom jeans. And underwear to match them all. My life is filled with memories of happy, "skinny" times. Then there are the fat times. Pre-marriage fat. Post baby flub. Renewed resolution Spring skinniness, followed by the Winter gain. Up and down. My whole life. Food driven. 
Taking food out of the equation was for me, bizarre. My obsession with it, was replaced with being preoccupied with the fact that I was not consuming it. It was amazing. It gave me both a sense of control, and a feeling of helplessness. I had no comfort. I had no salty, treats, in which to confide in. I longed for a sweetness that I could not have. I stopped thinking about money. I stopped worrying about all things beyond my control. I started to feel like I was in command of my body, and not the other way around, for once. For the first time, in my life actually. 
Dear Food,  You have been a true love, my worst enemy. A constant companion, an awful shadow. A reward. A punishment. Something that understands me, yet clouds my ability to understand myself. Something to come home to, yet something I want to run from. A necessity. Something to be shared. Something to keep secret. I worry that there is not enough of you for my family. I count the days until payday to get you. I want to wash you down the drain. Holidays centered around you, followed by days of guilt. You bring happiness, and shame. Many laughs, and too many tears. You have controlled me. 
I am not able to control much these days. From my kitchen, I can only contribute so much. I feel frustration most days, and a feeling of giving up on others. But I was OK without you for a spell. And I know that I need you. But I don't need you to make me feel better.
 I can do that myself.  

1 comment:

  1. Not that I was ever smaller than a size 14, but I had a revolutionary change in my thought towards food last year. I am now, and have been, for the last year, a 12. It feels incredibly thin. And I love it.