The food saga continues. I don’t ever want to look at it that way, but it does. My life revolves around food. A lot more than I would like to admit. Apparently most people don’t give it nearly as much thought as I do.
When I wake up at 4:00 a.m., I think, “What’s in the fridge and can I eat it quietly enough to keep Dr. Love from hearing me?” After eating, I’ll pass out on the couch for fear of being found out, and fall quickly into a carbohydrate-induced slumber. When I wake up for the day, I start looking for food again. I sit and I drink coffee and consider what I could eat for lunch and snacks at work that day.
I think about it quite a bit. Sometimes I am nearly late to work because I decide I need to fire up the stove and cook something. Or, I can get caught in the trap of knowing I didn’t pack a lunch, but I have a few bucks and I can stop at Casey’s and get a snack to get me through until I can get back home and make myself a “proper” lunch.
Sometimes I’ll come home and make a proper lunch, sometimes I’ll just go to the grocery store and get a salad, and then sometimes I’ll go fast food. Whichever way I go, it isn’t pretty. And once I start that thought in the morning that there is nothing to eat at the house, there is nothing that can keep me from going out and buying something.
Spending money and eating compulsively. It’s what I do.
QoB manages my finances to cut back on the catastrophe that I used to do to my banking account. I appreciate it and I know it can be a real PITA for her. I stole one of my checkbooks from her desk drawer the other day. Feeling desperate, so low and desperate. It’s hard to explain. I felt like that was the only answer.
I can’t stop eating. I am eating and eating and eating and I can’t stop. I don’t know what hunger feels like anymore. I can’t control my portions and I can’t stop heading back to the fridge/grocery/fast food place. Nothing is satisfying me and it is really at a bad point now.
I stopped showering about a month ago, maybe a little longer. My body disgusts me and I can’t stand to touch it or see it. Can’t stand to be naked for even a little bit. I worry about Dr. Love seeing me without clothes on and know for certain that he is disgusted by me, as well, even though he says this is not the case. I know the truth.
I see how people look at me. The token fat girl walking around work (waddle waddle), going to the store (hmmmm, what’s in her cart?), going through the fast food line (supersize it!), people are staring. They might even be pointing, but I wouldn’t know because I can’t stand to lift my head up to look.
This is becoming a real problem. I know it’s a problem because I have no energy to do anything, all I want to do is eat and think about eating and lay on the couch. All I can think about is food, and, alternately, how disgusting I am. I can’t take a shower. I wash my hair in the sink every other day, and am down to showering probably once a week, maybe a little more.
It’s just not good.
This whole idea of going lactose-free has really compounded everything, too. As you can only imagine. Probably more than you can imagine. Maybe I will be able to blog about that tomorrow but right now I’m completely disgusted and am going to lie on the couch and stare at the wall. Ponder what’s for lunch tomorrow.
Sarah McLachlan, Answer