My addiction to food both disgusts and amazes me.
I love food in good and healthy ways. But (sometimes) I use it in ways food is not intended to be used. Don't go all mind-in-the-gutter on me. I mean that there are times when I can prepare my oatmeal and walnuts, pack a shake for lunch and a piece of fruit and use food to nourish my body. This is fine, good, and controllable. But when I come home, whip up some waffles, reheat some pork chops and gorge, it doesn't feel good.
It doesn't even feel right.
Strangely, I cut out all the fat on the chops, and was reasonable with the waffles, but it was a big production of food-making, planning, anticipating... and then a frenzy. I ate fast and hard, like I've seen my kid do (and don't like because it is a reflection of me). I enjoyed the sweet, salty, chewy, buttery flavors mixed together and washed down with ice-cold milk. I knew I wouldn't journal my food because it was already a failure.
I caught myself gobbling.
I finished off with one more small waffle, lathered with peanut butter. I totally didn't need it, and could have powered through, not eating it. But I did. I wanted it.
I tell myself I'm fine, but I'm not sure if I am. Either by habit or by emotions that I've blocked, I managed to cancel out my thoughtful eating this morning with a few minutes of feasting. I feel full. Heavy with food and drink. Satiated. Disappointed in myself. Wanting to shed the pounds I've gained (about 7). Wanting to get past the goal I made months ago.
I'm not letting myself do it. Why?