I hate the relationship I have with food. I know what’s good and what’s bad. I know how to lose weight and how to stay the same. I know how my body feels when I eat healthy things versus when I eat unhealthy things.
One thing I wish is that I didn’t think about food so darn much! I love food. I eat when I’m happy. I eat when I’m sad. I eat when I’m stressed. I eat when I’m bored. I eat when I’m mad. I eat all the time for no reason aside from I want food. But I hate food.
I hate the way I think of it, as a “it versus me” can I hack it type of relationship. I hate that in my idle time I think about food: what I should be putting in my mouth, what I need to eat to be healthy, what I want to eat, and what I do actually eat. I’ll give you a hint: it’s not salad. I have plenty of time for that later. But I hate going in to the clinic, weighing myself religiously, and getting nowhere because I’ve lost the desire to discipline myself to eat right and just lose weight.
But food shouldn’t be the enemy. It shouldn’t be a weapon wielded against me or by me. It should be a fact of life, something readily accepted. I wish I could go back to myself in 2007, happy and not thinking one thought toward demonizing food and myself for my insane weight gain in 2009.
Food is not my enemy.