As I write this I am thinking about what I am going to have for my next meal, I have been thinking about that for some time.
All the time in fact. When I will eat next? What I will eat? Will people notice if I eat early? What will I cook for dinner? Should I eat before I go out? Does anyone have any snacks?
Let’s be honest here. I am a food addict. Pure and simple and I probably always have been.
Of all the addictions I wish I could have had (shopping, sex, shoes…hell even substances), I guess I could have chosen something more glamorous…or frankly acceptable.
See, I think one of the main reasons why I haven’t accepted the reality food addiction is frankly, it does seem a bit lame.
Another excuse for gluttony.
Or lack of will power.
Or being someone who just enjoys their food.
Someone who I care about and I have a little schtick where we send each other media links about the new fad diet, the latest in research on healthy living etc.
They know intimately my issues with my weight, with food and generally my struggle to be healthy and have been supportive beyond words.
I sent them a piece earlier this week and the response hit me hard. I was told my problem was that I read all of this but never do anything about my own eating issues.
When the reply email landed I felt as if I had been slapped.
I locked myself in the bathroom and had a cry (I cry a lot, it’s reflexive), but I couldn’t hide from the fact that it was true.
I hated it but knew I had to accept it.
I digested this for a couple of days. Cried some more. Checked out the cost of weight loss surgery and whether that would fit in my holiday schedule. Remembered my fear of needles and promptly dropped this idea.
Then I made a decision.
Yesterday I had a workout with my personal trainer. A workout that had be a sweaty and crumpled mess in my car afterwards. Best workout in ages. He had weighed me and we discovered I was 3kgs down from last week which was more a relief than a cause for celebration.
I showered, went to a media dinner (oh the irony – I am a food blogger!) and when I came home, perhaps fueled by a couple of glasses of red wine and a belly full of Singaporean food (I agonized over every mouthful), I registered this blog.
So here I am. Doing something about my “eating”, about my addiction, ugly and as deeply unsexy as it is.
This is not going to be the prettiest blog and I will confess I am prone to the odd maudlin dramatic turn, but at least it will keep me honest.