Fuck You, Little Debbie!

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Apparently I’m not that bright when it comes to junk food. I grabbed a Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pie on my way out the door this morning to eat on my way home from work. Not just your averaged sized snack, but the ginornous one that’s like 3,456 calories. I tossed it on the seat beside me as I drove to work. I kid you not when I say that bitch was talking to me. I was so taken by the thought of getting her sweet creamy goodness in my mouth that I nearly forgot I was driving.

I proceeded to tell myself how insane it was that I wanted to eat since not more that five minutes before, I was jamming my pie hole with breakfast. My mind was racing with ideas about how I was thinking about that treat like I used to think about vodka.

So, I decided to sit with my feelings until they passed like I would if I had a craving for alcohol. I guess it was more like squirming. I wrestled with why I felt I had to eat it and not long after, the feeling subsided. Why had I never done that before? Normally I don’t give more than a thought about shoveling something in my mouth. I was pretty proud of myself.

So you know what I did? I ate that whore half an hour later.

One addiction at a time…

P.S. Yesterday was 200 days.

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Trading One Addiction For Another

Wednesday will be 5 months since I’ve had a drink.  Some days it seems like it was yesterday, like when I think of the life altering hangovers. Other days it seems like it’s been years.

I’ve mentioned before that I had gastric bypass surgery almost 8 years ago.  I rarely drank then but when I did, it was almost always to excess.  Anyway, as an adult, I ate whatever I wanted to eat.  I didn’t prescribe to the whole, “I’m eating my emotions” idea.  I was a young stay at home mother who rarely had a minute to brush my hair, let alone deal with the emotions of my past.  So I grew physically to epic proportions.  I weighed nearly 400 pounds 8 years ago.  I was physically miserable as I’d tried every diet and could easily lose weight only to gain it back just as quickly as it came off.  I made the decision along with my then husband to have surgery.  He had his 2 months after mine.

The weight literally fell off.  I lost over 100 pounds in the first 4 months.  But, I strictly followed the surgeons orders.  Whatever I ate was logged in a food diary, even if it was only an olive.  I had tunnel vision where my weight loss was concerned.  It wasn’t easy, but I knew it was what I needed to do.

It took me 18 months to get to a place where I could physically exercise.  I went way overboard with that pretty much like everything else I’ve done in my life.  If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing to excess.  I was walking 9 miles a day or biking 18 miles.  I loved this time as it gave me time to get my thoughts together.

Fast forward a couple of years and a divorce later and I was dating.  Most dates seemed to have an alcohol tie but I was very good at drinking water to make sure I could drive myself home.  I didn’t feel left out from not drinking.  I felt in control.  I really drank very rarely.

When I met my current boyfriend 4.5 years ago, I was dabbling with drinking but always in controlled situations where I knew I was safe and didn’t have to drive.  He was definitely a drinker and it was fun drinking with him.  Anyway, that’s a long story to be told on a different day.  My point is that my drinking escalated from barely drinking to binge drinking ever other weekend for 3 days at a time.  I had transferred my food addiction to an alcohol addiction.  You could probably throw a sex addiction in there as well as I had some pretty wild times there too.

I’ve been eating a lot lately.  As in binge eating, not really giving a crap what I’m putting in my body eating. I suppose I’ve transferred my alcohol addiction back to food.  I need to reign it back in to become an exercise obsession.  The problem is that even after 5 months of sobriety, I still don’t have to get up and go that I once did.  Maybe it’s my lack of self confidence holding me down.  Maybe it’s just plain old laziness.  All I know is that I lack the motivation to eat healthily and exercise like I used to.

An aside, I’m not feeling well due to a disease I acquired five years ago that has no cure.  The flares have been hitting harder and more often than before I quit drinking.  I’ve spent most of today feeling totally miserable and wanting nothing more than to crawl into a bottle so that I don’t have to feel like this. I know that I won’t do that but boy do I want to.  Things will get better.  They always do.