Thou art too, Ben and Jerry?

Thinking Thin mantra #3:

Food is simply food; not friend, not foe…just food.

This is a strong statement for me because food was always my best friend. Nothing could cure a broken heart, a bruised ego or a fight with your best friend like some Chips Ahoy dunked into a vat of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. What says "movie date night" with your husband like a tub of popcorn covered in butter, washed down with a gallon of Cherry Coke? These things were my friends, or so I thought.

On more occassions than I care to remember, I sat in front of the TV, watching the Biggest Loser, wishing I had the motivation those people have, while scarfing down a prepackaged brownie covered in tiny, sugar filled candies or devouring 15 miniature Butterfingers, Clark bars and Three Muskateers. Whatever time and reasoning couldn't fix, food could. Granted, it was a temporary fix and I often felt extreme guilt and shame in the aftermath of the gluttony, but for a short time, I felt ok with the world and the hand it had dealt me.

The irony of my overeating is that most of the time, I didn't even taste the food until I was licking the leftover remnants off of my stubby little fingers. It was like I was sleep eating my way through my day, completely unaware that I was eating more and more and getting bigger and bigger. It's like it was a secondary nature equivalent to blinking. I just did it without thought.

I mean, me and food, we were TIGHT. Like wearing BFF necklaces, matching headbands, having slumber parties and talking on the phone all night about boys, TIGHT. We were inseperable. Have you ever tried to seperate a depressed fat chick from her Snickers Bar? If you have you are probably waving one hand because that is all you have left. And don't dare tell that fat girl she is, indeed, FAT. Because you never realize just HOW fat you are, until you aren't that fat anymore. Me and spinach artichoke dip were like Ike and Tina Turner. That dip would whoop my ass and make me swell like a Macy's day float, but I always found a way to forgive it and come back for more.

Food is a frienemy. It comes disguised as a savior, but is really a wolf in sheeps clothing. It makes you lose all rational, lose all sense of control and forget about Jenny Craig and head for Sara Lee. It inexplicably makes your pants tighter, your self esteem smaller and your waistline bigger. It holds your hand while it helps you shove the entire bag of Lay's potato chips into your mouth, and then stabs you in the back and causes fat rolls that resemble human speed bumps.

I know some people form healthy relationships with food and don't have to justify their fish and vegetables by covering it with Velveeta (which by the way, is DELISH!!) but I am not one of these people. It's love or hate with me. I either love food and hate being a fat ass, or I hate food and love being thin and being able to see my toes again. There will never be a middle ground. And that's ok. Because me and food, we had a good run. We had a 15 year affair full of lust and shame and cookie crumbs in places you don't want to know about, but it's time I move on with my life and find a new lover.

So, Food I guess this makes you my foe....for now. Maybe someday we can reconnect over a sugary, foamy latte and a slice of pie and talk about the old days, but for now, I am changing my number, shutting down my email address and trying to forget what a great friend you were to me all those years.

Love and Thinness,
Ninja