Trust

I can relate to the alcoholic mindset "One drink is never enough." The same goes for me: one cupcake is never enough. One of the behavioral changes I've been working on is trusting myself and trusting my body, which is pretty scary because sometimes my body wants a cupcake and I'm afraid one just won't be enough.

The concept of pigging out in moderation is completely foreign to me. Those scenes in movies and on TV where girls are depressed or upset and eating ice cream out of the carton have always baffled me. I thought it had to be one of those exaggerations that seem realistic but don't really happen, like girls showering together after gym class or having pillow fights at a sleepover. I mean, those girls are never fat, so they obviously don't eat like that all the time (and they can't ALL be bulimic), and if you're eating out of the carton you're obviously eating the whole thing, right?

Last week I had what I'm starting to realize - and trust - was a "normal" food experience, though at the time I was freaking out because it felt like old times, and not the good ones.

That day I skipped breakfast (which never bodes well for me), ate a small lunch and then a light - though very satisfying - dinner. Leaving my friend's house around 10:00, I started jonesing for something sweet. The craving escalated quickly to near-manic proportions - I wanted junk food and I wanted it NOW. This is not a new feeling, in fact it's very familiar, but I haven't experienced it in so long that I hoped it was behind me. This is the feeling that has led to countless bakery thrift shop benders and 24-hour convenience store junk food runs, countless stomachaches, countless shame spirals. So yeah, I approached Food Lion with more than a little trepidation, though not enough to make me turn back (also familiar).

I had my sights set on pumpkin pie and sure enough, they were on sale. Again in typical fashion, I tore into it in the parking lot with the vigor of a junkie who needs his fix NOW. I continued eating during the five minute drive home but before I got there, something unexpected happened: I STOPPED EATING. I parked in the driveway, brought the rest of the pie (approximately half) in the house, and pretty much forgot about it for the rest of the night. THAT is not typical of my old behavior, I can tell you that much. The old me would have finished that bad boy before I got out of the car.

What it comes down to is this: I wanted pie. I ate some pie. I didn't want pie anymore. I stopped eating pie. I imagine that to a "normal" person, this is normal behavior. To me? It totally fucking blows my mind.

Sure, I ate the rest of it the next morning, which maybe isn't the healthiest breakfast but at least it served as a meal - pie for breakfast, not pie and breakfast. And two days later I got another pie, which I again ate in two sittings, but by then I had figured out an important piece to the puzzle: I was PMSing.

Now that I don't eat junk food all the time, I've been able to recognize a specific craving for it in the week before I get my period. I tend to panic a little when it happens because I fear I'm reverting to old habits, but when I satisfy the craving, whether it's for ice cream, chocolate, or pumpkin pie, I am in fact satisfied and don't lose control. This has been happening with a fair amount of regularity over the past six months, so you'd think I'd have stopped panicking by now. Of course, I would probably be less surprised if I paid attention to the calendar.

I think the panic is related to fear of losing control. The urge for pie that night was overwhelming but I didn't fight it, didn't try to exert my will - we all know how exercises in willpower tend to go - instead I trusted myself and in the end I got what I wanted without feeling bad about myself.

That's my goal, really: to eat what I want and not feel bad about myself. I've always hated diets largely because I'm just not organized enough to follow one successfully; eating food just shouldn't be that difficult. Plus I've never been one to deny myself something I really want (and if you've ever eaten my grandmother's Christmas cookies, you understand the futility of trying). Slowly but surely, I'm learning to trust that the changes I'm making are very real, and that trusting myself is the best way to get what I want.