I like to eat. Pretty much anything you can think of, I like to eat. Food is a gift from the gods, meant to be enjoyed and savored as well as to nourish us.
Trouble is, food is much more than sustenance to me. Food is one of my best friends.
I think about food a lot. I think about what I'm going to eat, when I'm going to eat it, how much I'm going to eat of it, how eating it will make me feel, etc. all the time. I have some serious food-related issues.
I eat when I am sad. I eat when I am frustrated. I eat when I am bored. I eat when I am depressed (hi, that's a lot, in case you were wondering). I eat when I'm hungry. I eat when I'm not hungry. I eat when I see food, just because it's there. Sometimes I eat something that I'm not really hungry for, just so that nobody else can eat it. I am territorial about food. I have been known to hide my food so that nobody else can find it. I have been known to steal other people's food and eat it, then deny it. I have been known to consume an entire pizza in a single sitting. I can eat an entire slice of pizza in three bites.
I used to be anorexic. For years in high school, I lived on Diet Coke and Camel Lights. I worked out three hours a day. I weighed 103 pounds (I'm 5'5"). I thought I looked better than I ever had or have since. I loved every minute of it. I loved the way I looked, I loved the way I felt about myself, I loved the attention I got from others, I loved the feeling of superiority I had over my bigger friends.
All through college I managed to maintain a decent weight. Not as skinny as I would have liked, by any means, but not as hefty as some people. I was a size 6 when I got married. Then I got pregnant. I gained 51 pounds when I was pregnant with the Bear. Lost it all, plus five more pounds, within about 6 months. Got pregnant with Tank, and gained 42 pounds. Lost all of it, but started going up and down with the same 5-10 pounds as my moods went up and down.
Since I left my house (February/March), I have gained over 30 pounds. I'm up to a size 12. This is the heaviest I've ever been (7+ months pregnant excepted). My face is hard to recognize. I feel like shit - sluggish, tired, easily winded on the stairs, no energy at all. I hate the way I look. I hate that I have no control over what I eat, when I eat it, how much I eat.
That's not true. I'm sure that somewhere under there, I do have the ability to control this. But right now, I feel like I can't. I feel like I'm addicted - like the food is controlling me, not vice versa. I am ugly and fat, and it's all because I use food to make myself feel better. I eat to fill the emotional hunger, not the physical hunger. And that's not right. I was going to join Weight Watchers, but the $$ factor cancelled that plan. I live with my in-laws, so I have no control over what kind of food is in the house, or what the kids and I eat. I take advantage of that. I blame my lack of self-control on the situation I'm in, on my MIL for buying crap food, on my in-laws for having awful eating habits, on anything and anyone but myself. I know I can do better than this - I just have to figure out how. I have to *make* myself. And I can. I have more willpower (usually) than most people. I quit smoking cold turkey - twice. I quit Paxil cold turkey (ugh). I went through natural childbirth - twice. I was anorexic, for Pete's sake! I know I have the willpower to make myself stop eating. I just need to find something that will fill the emotional void, once I can't use food to do it anymore.
Geez, this is rambly and disorganized. I'm just frustrated by the fat, and by my seeming inability to just put down the damn fork, already. I need to find a way to kickstart myself into losing weight. I don't want to be a supermodel. I just want to be able to zip my pants.