Eating is when I’m the happiest. It’s the highlight of every day and most of what I think about. I think about how the food tastes, how I feel when eating, and what i’m doing to my body.
Here’s examples of the foods I love to eat: Little Caesar’s Crazy Bread, Taco Bell Cheese Quesadillas & Chips + Cheese, Chocolate Cake, Donuts, Panera Bread Broccoli Cheddar Soup, Lemonade, Chicken Wings.
When I’m eating, I don’t think about my problems. I don’t think about how empty I feel or the fact that I don’t have anyone to eat with. I eat most of my meals alone in my car listening to a podcast. I eat quickly and with fear that someone will come up to my car and see me eating things that are making me fat.
When I eat, it feels like i’m alive. Like I’m satisfying myself. It feels like love. I feel happy. I feel excited. I feel content. I know now that eating releases dopamine and that’s why we like to eat. It literally makes us feel good. But, for me it fills something else that I don’t get on a daily basis.
My counselor told me that maybe my eating junk food is actually a way to punish myself and hurt myself. When I eat junk food I know what i’m doing to my body. I’ve read a bunch and educated myself on it. But somehow I don’t really care.
After I’ve eaten, I think about how my body looks. I’ve gained 45 pounds in the last two years. I try to hide it with baggy clothes but it’s obvious in the way my face has filled out and the tightness of my jeans. I don’t like to swim anymore because I’d need to show my body. I feel gross. I feel weak.
I don’t like to tell people about my eating because I think it makes me look weak. Like what’s her problem can’t she just eat things that are good for her.
My grandpa made a comment a few weeks ago on how i’ve put on a few pounds. I won’t forget that I think.