Just a picture of peanut butter cups


Things have actually been going pretty smoothly.  Sunday is one month since we started, and I haven’t had too many major cravings.  As I mentioned yesterday, I’ve been wanting bread and milk, but the sugar cravings have been pretty nonexistent.  And that’s the BIG battle for me.  I’m a compulsive overeater, and my binges have almost always been on sweet foods.  I truly believe I have a sugar addiction.  (And yes, sugar addiction is very real, as I wrote about in my old blog a couple of years ago.)

But I got hit with the first big one today.  One of the sites I follow on Facebook posted something about Reese’s PB cups, one of my very favorite treats, and for some reason, it hit me really hard.  I follow a number of food bloggers, so it’s not like this is the first time I’ve been exposed to something like this.  But seeing that picture and reading about a yummy recipe they’re posting soon, suddenly I had this mental image of sitting on the couch with a bag of them and just eating them all.

What’s worst, though, is not the mental image.  Rather, it’s what I think about when I have food fantasies like this, what I hear in my head.  It goes a little something like this:  “Why not, Michelle?  Wouldn’t you rather be fat and happy?  I mean, you’re a lost cause anyway.  You can’t possibly lose as much weight as you have to lose.  Why torture yourself?  Wouldn’t a whole bag of those feel good right now?”

Dear heavens, when I type it out like that, it makes me want to cry.  Why do I allow myself to treat myself like that?  But it’s so deeply ingrained that I barely even realize it happening.  Were it not for the fact that I’m keeping this blog, which makes me more attuned to these thoughts, it would hardly even have passed into my consciousness.

And the irony is that I know it would not actually feel good at all.  I’d shovel them into my mouth, barely tasting them, and then I’d be overwhelmed with guilt and self hatred.  I’d get no joy at all out of those PB cups.

That’s what is most overwhelming to me about this journey.  That negative voice – that not only tells me terrible things about myself but also lies to me about what would make me happy – is such an intrinsic part of me that I don’t know how to excise it.  Or better yet, to turn it into a positive voice that helps me, rather than brings me down.  It’s so hard to maintain optimism and self-confidence when that voice talks to me so many times per day.


2 responses »

    • I know I’m not, and that makes me so sad, too. How did we, collectively, get this way? And how can we help keep our children from doing the same thing to themselves? I wanted Maggie to be active from a young age to help with this, but dance is not exactly the ideal sport for avoiding body issues. Although it’s apparently a growing phenomenon among girls – and boys – in all sports. “If I were just thinner, I’d run faster,” etc. Fortunately, right now, Maggie is blissfully oblivious. But she’s solid and curvy and not built like most other little girls her age, and certainly not like the stereotypical long, lithe ballerina. (Fortunately, other dance disciplines are more accepting of all body types, and she doesn’t want to be a ballerina.) I worry that at some point, she’s going to start comparing herself to the other girls – especially considering that they spend several hours together each week in skin tight clothes in front of a wall of mirrors! I hope she continues to love herself as much as she does now. At 8, I know some girls are already beginning to think about dieting and things like that, and that does not seem to have even crossed her mind yet other than the occasional impulse to “eat healthier.” So that, at least, is a small relief.

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