Self loathing and gluttony

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He’s gone and the response it automatic. It has been years since I let the haze take over me but it suddenly returns with a vicious kick to my gut.

I try to distract myself, renting fun movies as a treat and avoiding the candy stacked up at the register.

I try to distract myself, visiting the a friend’s new puppy and oohing and aahing over the cuteness.

But as soon as I leave her house, it takes over.

Fill me up make me happy comfort me pleasure me wrap me in fullness no more emptiness I want to feel full fill me up make me happy.

My car practically drives itself to the grocery store. I grab a basket and my endorphines are already pumping and I am excited and anticipating the pleasure.

I breeze up and down the aisles, gravitating to my favorites, my old friends who have always been there for me when I am fighting the aching loneliness.

I burn with embarassment as the cashier rings up my purchases, trying to tell myself that she thinks I am having a party or something because after all, who shops like this?

I get home and I should take the dogs, who have been shut up all day, for a walk but I don’t want to because I don’t care about anything but my fix. I rip open the two large bags of Doritos and start munching happily away. After the first few handfuls I start to feel a little twinge in my stomach, like this greasy, salty food might not be entirely welcome, so I push the bags away.

Two minutes later, I am back for another handful. And another. I finally manage to put them away only by distracting myself with a cookie – one of those soft, buttery iced confections from the grocery store bakery that melts in your mouth and sends sparks of pleasure radiating through your body.

I collapse on the couch, ignoring the sad dog faces with toys held hopefully in mouths. My dogs are like people – they sigh when they are unhappy. My sweet, sweet spaniel heaves a huge sigh as she climbs into my lap for a reluctant snuggle. After a few minutes, she gives up.

I’m full but in a couple of hours it’s time for dinner. The fish sticks (8 of them) and fries (half a bag) go into the oven and somehow I manage to slightly burn the fries but I eat them anyway, drowning them in ketchup. I’m on my second “chick beer” of the night.

Fries mostly eaten and they are sitting like a big, slightly-burned congealed lump in my stomach. To rid my mouth of the burned taste, I reach for another cookie. I wash it down with the remains of that second chick beer.

It’s midnight and my eyes are aching. I put one dog in his kennel and stumble off to bed.

I feel miserable. My stomach is full of CRAP and I am too full, way too full. My stomach is not happy with me and I feel sluggish and in desperate need of some water. I collapse into bed but can’t make myself turn off the T.V.

If I turn off the T.V., I’ll hear the silence of the empty house. And my own guilt and self-loathing will rise up and overwhelm me.

Back when I was first married and struggling to find a job, and trip out of town for WHN was a celebration for me. As soon as he left I made a beeline for the grocery store to stock up on my fatty, sugary friends.

It was the freedom of being able to eat whatever I wanted and not be judged that drove me, exhilarated me. I could eat cheese sticks and Oreos for dinner and no one would know.

Which is how, when I finally started my first job 6 months later, I would up at a hefty 203 pounds.

I got better. I promise. Plus, WHN stopped traveling so the temptation wasn’t there as much. I worked out a lot last summer at got down to 176. (!!) I looked good and I felt good and I didn’t feel that need to fill myself up with junk.

However, the holidays and severe depression hit me hard this year, and I know I gained at least 10 pounds back. I say at least. I haven’t had the courage to weigh myself because I am afraid it will send me into a deep chasm.

I feel horrible. My clothes aren’t fitting me well anymore. Jeans that I could slip off without unbuttoning last summer are feeling tight and that is more terrifying than anything.

I bought groceries before WHN left so I could control myself, knowing that he would see my purchases. I bought baked chips and a thin crust pizza and fruit cups and guacamole and Lean Cuisines, trying to treat myself without going overboard.

But yesterday the need took over and I fell off the wagon, if I was ever even back on it.

Today I’m reeling from my own weakness, determined to make healthy choices and to go for a run on my lunch break.

I really, really want that fit, lean, smiling girl from last summer back.

But lying in wait for me at home are my frenemies: ice cream, pizza, chips, cookies….

I disgust myself sometimes, for being so incredibly weak.

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