"My name is Kendra, and I am a foodaholic." This is how I feel at Weight Watchers meetings. Where other addicts come to discuss their preferred substitutes and languish over the prevalence of Arby's on their drive home. I've tried a lot of different diets; I experimented with Slim Fast in high school. Cut carbs, sugars, even chocolate. Jumped on the Special K Challenge bandwagon. Went to the meetings, tracked the calories, logged the exercise hours. But the problem is, no matter which diet I try, how much I clear out my schedule to work out, there is a deeper need in me. I think that is the root of the problem. Whether we smoke, drink, exercise, do drugs, or eat, we have to have something to throw into that hole inside ourselves. I'm not trying to be a downer, but the more I think about the relationship I have with food, the more I feel like an addict. When I quit smoking five years ago, after smoking daily for almost as long, I suffered from headaches, shaking hands, and an overriding obsession with smoke. I would sit next to smokers at bus stops just to get a whiff of that sweet incense. Around the time I quit smoking, my food issues started. Now that I am trying to quit eating, I find myself unexplainably at bakeries, and making analogies about cakes. And that is the way of it, we can substitute, food for cigarettes, exercise for food, but until we know what we are trying to fill up, we will never feel full.
I started off this blog with a plan to log my caloric intake in order to track my weight loss. I have failed to follow through, whether for one reason or another. Too much going on, or more often, just not feeling like I wanted to know if I was over my limit for the day. Like a raging alcoholic, I am trying to claw my way back to the wagon, while simultaneously stuffing my face with anything I can get my hands on (see taco, above). If there were a patron saint for obese dieters, I would say a prayer to find my way back to the path, but there isn't. So instead I reached out to a friend.
I met this friend in college. At the time I met her she was in much the same place I am now: recently divorced, and struggling with her own weight issues. She's now into great shape, and is on what is called the "Slow Carb Diet," with success. Inspired by her posts about the diet, and her frequent references to being a gymaholic (a much better habit, I believe), I am going to give it a shot. As part of giving myself a fighting chance, I am going to give myself permission to not be happy with where I am. Yes, there is a hole inside of me, but no, that hole does not need food. For now, until I have a better understanding of why it's there, I will throw myself into exercising, substitution I know, but a necessary one. It may not work, but I won't know until I try. Trust me to keep you updated, and wish me luck!
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