Dirty Little Secret

I don’t want to tell my dirty little secret, so I tried to write a story about it. I’ve lost my touch for fiction though, and it didn’t come off the right way. This is the hardest thing I could ever do and I am not even sure I will complete this post. Of course if I don’t I will be hounded by those who care…and possibly those who don’t. And then maybe I will feel like crap if no one bothers to hound me about it at all.

Damn, that’s sad. Okay moving on. I don’t do pity parties anymore. I gave them up along with my teenage years.

Do you know what it’s like to constantly think about food? Do you know what it’s like when you are trying to stop yourself from thinking about food and your toddler is telling you she is hungry for the hundredth time in 30 minutes (poor girl already thinks food cures boredom). Do you know what it’s like to eat even when you are not hungry? Not occasionally…but all the time. Just for the taste of something. Hell, I’m not even talking not hungry; I’m talking completely full. Where is the fucking sense in that??

I hate food with every fiber of my being. I hate that I am fat. I hate that eating makes the reflux worse. I hate that if I don’t eat, I won’t live.

I eat to stave off boredom.
I eat to cure depression.
I eat to celebrate.
I eat because it’s there.
I eat in secret.
I eat in plain view.
I eat for self-comfort.
I eat when I loathe myself.
I eat when I think of how much weight I need to lose.

You know what’s funny? I love to cook. I find it very calming…even if I don’t get to eat what I cook(especially when I don't). I suppose the activity keeps me busy. I am thinking about food, but I am not thinking about eating it. It’s just there…an ingredient in my activity. When I cook, the food isn’t about me, but about the person it’s for.

Hello. I am the Arrogant Sage and I am a compulsive eater.