I feel like I’m hungrier a lot more. Any other time, if I felt the slightest twinge of hunger, I’d immediately go and get something to eat, usually nothing healthy. Now I eat a piece of fruit or just let my stomach rumble. Truthfully, I’ve probably never known real hunger. I live in America, after all. It’s just hard not to think about all of the yummy things I could be eating. I’ve really been craving Lay’s potato chips, which is odd because I didn’t eat them on a regular basis before, but now all of a sudden I really want them. And Swiss Cake Rolls. I love Swiss Cake Rolls. I wish I could say I loved vegetables, but I really can’t. I don’t get excited about eating vegetables, but then maybe that’s the point. Is food something I should get excited about, or should I just regard it as a necessity that is void of any kind of emotional association?
I definitely think I am an emotional eater, and I am trying to figure out how best to deal with that. When I feel stressed, I want to eat. When I feel sad, I want to eat. Even when I feel happy, I want to eat. How did food become a way to satisfy those emotions? And how do I reverse that? I think perhaps one way is to stop and think about why I’m feeling what I’m feeling, and rather than use food to numb it or encourage it, I should turn it over to God. I am impulsive when it comes to eating, so maybe I just need to be more thoughtful. When I’m standing in front of the fridge, I should stop and think, “Am I really hungry, or just bored? Do I really need to eat right now?”
What all of this requires, of course, is willpower, which I lack in large quantities but am sometimes able to muster in small doses. Yesterday it was really hard to wake up early because we went to Memphis to see the Grizzlies play and didn’t get back home until 11:15 and in bed at 11:30, which is about an hour later than usual. Plus, it was bitterly cold outside and dark, and the bed felt so comfortable. It is at those times when I am most thankful for my husband, who will pull the covers off me and turn on a light so I don’t fall asleep. (Tough love, that.) I truly believe that having a buddy, someone to go through this with, is essential. Doing it alone certainly hasn’t worked for me in the past, and on those days when I didn’t feel like working out or eating right, I just didn’t because no one was there to keep me accountable. I am not sure what that says about me, but I am okay with admitting that I need someone to help me. Don’t we all need help? Isn’t that what relationships are for? Praise God for my husband! (I love you, honey!)