Being the offspring of an Irish mother and an Italian father, I guess I am genetically predisposed to love all that is starchy, full of so-called “bad” carbs, and sweet. Let's face it, at every family meal we had either a side of potatoes, in many different varieties, but mostly mashed or baked, or a side of pasta, whether ziti or linguine. And at the end of every meal, there was either a ricotta cheese cake or an Entenman's coffee cake to finish off the feast. So, it is not hard to imagine given these facts, that I am not the kinda girl who doesn't love to eat.
But therein lies my problem. Food. There I said it. It's not my lack of willpower to say no to a cheesy baked ziti, or my laziness that keeps me from working out, my issues lie with food itself. It tempts me every where I go. It smells good, it looks good, hell, its even better than sex sometimes. It doesn't judge you or talk back, it's only goal in life is to taste good and make you happy. In fact, it encourages you to keep trying it, so many varieties, so little time.
Why does it have to exist in my world? It's everywhere, from the local drugstore to the giant Super Walmart. Why can't I go into a store for say, a birthday card .. no big deal, but after the card is chosen and I am waiting in line to visit the cashier, there it is, that giant Hershey bar that is calling my name, choosing me, to be it's downfall. When actually I am not it's downfall, it is mine. How I wish I could turn away, ignore it's pleas, but I can not. So, while waiting, I grab the chocolate, open it up and ahhh, tastes so good it's a crime. After paying for my secret treat, I must destroy the evidence. I am not trying to hide it from anyone but myself. I curse myself for my lack of judgment in letting this inanimate creature invade my life and feel that if I just throw away the wrapper, it's almost as if I didn't eat it in the first place.
I do the same thing with cake .. I figure if there are three pieces left and I eat all three during the course of one day, it will no longer exist and I will not ever have to look at it or think about it again. And tomorrow, I will not eat at all. Crazy, I know, but this is how my mind works. There are so many kinds of foods that do this to me, that I just want to rid my house of food. Well good food. Keep the pickled beets, the scrapple, the eggs, the fruit, all the things my family likes to eat and I don't, and I think I may win this war, otherwise I am just gonna have to wave the white flag and give in to it's domination over my life.
Anyone got a spare white handkerchief?
