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I have a funny relationship with food. Sometimes we’re the best of friends, sometimes we’re in a honeymoon period and sometimes it feels like food is punishing me. Like an ex lover you can’t resist even though you know they’ll just hurt you again.
Without a doubt I am quite firmly in the live to eat category and more often than not the eat-to-build-a-wall-against-your-feelings-so-they-can’t-scream-inside-your-head category too. Scientifically you’d probably call it comfort eating.
I think it must have started when I first went to Uni. I felt rather isolated and out of my depth. So I ate because it made me feel better and it filled a lonely void. But I couldn’t stop and gained around 4.5 stone in just over year which stayed with me like a security blanket for the next 6 years that followed. Even now I’m still around 2 stone off my goal weight.
Because it’s hard to break the cycle.
When you don’t want to burden the people around with your nonsense thoughts and daily stressings, food is always there to momentarily help you forget. Consumed by the sensation of taste there is nothing else in that moment until it is just empty space again. So you have to try and fill it, continuously.
For the record what goes in, stays in, and generally has preference for my thighs and my gut.
Some people will probably say it’s just greed and to that I say you’re probably partly right. But with the greed there’s also an addiction which spurs you on to take another bite even though you’re already bursting at the seems and you consciously know you shouldn’t.
We fell out bad earlier this year but recently we’ve been getting along again. Food and I, we’re in a happier place right now I’d say. And though the bubble is still pretty damn sensitive, everytime it breaks, it rebuilds a little stronger.