Today I want to talk about a very tough subject. Food. It has always been my enemy. I remember having to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night as a child and stealing it from the local convenience store. I remember having to climb onto the counter top in our tiny little apartment just to get a taste of dry oatmeal- at the age of 4. Food wasn’t available when I was young. It was a treat, not a thing we took for granted. I remember drooling at the thought of a cold red hot dog and the feeling of hunger ripping through me. This didn’t last forever of course. As I went into foster care, I carried my survival instincts with me, hoarding food wherever I went. I would sneak into the kitchen late nights and steal whatever I could get my hands on to. whether it be some cocktail shrimp in the freezer, or a whole case of candy bars. At first I wasn’t picky. soon I only stole things that were appealing. I had a whole dumpster under my bed.
My survival instincts for food became an addiction. I had to have food. Not to survive, but to keep me satisfied. Problem is, I was never satisfied. I would eat and eat and eat. No matter how much I ate, the hunger pitting in my stomach never went away. As the pounds started stacking on, My foster parents began to notice that something wasn’t right. My stashes were discovered- I now hid them everywhere. In the ceiling, in the closets, under my bed, in my bureau. In an attempt to help me- they cut me off. pantry doors were bolted down and locked, fridge was off limits, sweets hid behind lock and key in their bedroom. I was so desperate for the satisfaction of being full and eating, I soon learned how to pick locks. The nightmare continued and escalated for years. It was a constant battle that never went anywhere.
When I turned 20, I fell ill with a gallbladder disease. I couldn’t eat. It was like a blessing in disguise for me. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t ruined by food. I survived on brown rice and vitamins. pounds dropped off of me like melting fat. 100 lbs later, the blessing was over. I was cured with a surgery. I was now beautiful in my eyes. And others apparently. I became obsessed with food once more: I lived on minuscule helpings of veggies and nothing else. others would notice and I would make up stories about the meals I would eat later- except I never would. I finally got my 5’4 figure to 160 lbs. the smallest I had ever been in my life.
Then I met the love of my life. A food loving, meat eating man. And guess what my talent is? cooking. I would cook for him every night and was so pleased with his reaction to my cooking. My obsession with my weight went away as I got to know this man. As I started eating real food again, My demon had come back. How do you hide such an addiction from the one you love?!! soon the weight came creeping back as did the bathroom cookie binges and the fast food drivebyes. 8 months after meeting the love of my life, I got pregnant with my son and got married. While I was pregnant, I blames my binges on my baby, laughing everything off with my husband. My son is a year old now and I am out of control.
I finally admitted this to my husband last night full of tears. I watched everything register on his face as tears streamed down my face. I wore my shame and my guilt on my sleeves as I told him everything. In the time we have been together, 2 and a half years, I have gained 150 lbs. I looked nothing like the women he met.
I have a doctors appointment in the morning where I will finally face my fears: Food