My Food Obsession

I have a bit of an obsessive relationship with food. I dream about recipes and love savoring aromas. I allow flavors to linger on my tongue and I have fantasies of being a whiz in the kitchen who whips up an amazing dinner that has my family pounding their utensils on the table in eager anticipation of the wonderfully delicious meal I have conjured up from the meager ingredients on hand. My obsession also has a dark side.

I have long been a perfectionist in just about every area of my life. The worst part of being a perfectionist is that it is often paralyzing because a perfectionist will get discouraged if the results of whatever endeavor at hand is less than perfect. I can recall rewriting notes for classes because I felt my handwriting was not neat enough. My perfectionism carries over into my self image as well. Based on what my friends and family tell me, I have a very different perception of my appearance than others'. I see crow's feet, sun spots, scars, pimples, cellulite, excess weight, drab, frumpy, awkward and on and on.

How does all of this tie in with my obsession with food? I have often referred to myself as a non-discriminatory eater because I like everything. I love every vegetable regardless of scent, color or texture. I can't wait for road side stands or farmer's markets so I can enjoy locally grown produce. I don't know that I could ever get enough dark cherries-they are my absolute favorite and I have been known to hide them in the fridge so I don't have to share them. I just revealed another part of my obsession; fear that I will not get to eat every last morsel of whatever food it is I am craving at the time. My love of food is not only for the fresh and healthy. I also secretly lust over French fries, elephant ears, ice cram and pie. I feel almost naughty when I devour my gluttonous treats.

I think about food constantly. I have even prayed at night that God would grant me the strength to make healthier choices the next day. I do pretty well and eat a decent breakfast then someone brings in a fat laden, deep-fried, calorie soaked box of deliciousness and I nearly get the shakes trying to resist its temptation. I have the best of intentions when it comes to dinner but it usually goes all down hill after 7 p.m. I don't eat a scoop of ice cream; I get a sundae with hot fudge, peanuts and whipped cream. I don't eat a bowl of popcorn; I eat the entire bag. I don't eat a couple of cookies; I eat an entire sleeve. I think I am drawing a distinct picture.

My obsession with food and pursuit of perfectionism do not mesh well AT ALL. I think about food and look forward to the all the flavors. Later when I get dressed to work out, I look in the mirror and start mentally measuring myself. First I see all the dimples, pelted on the backs of my thighs then I work my way up to my waistline and loathe the extra flesh that either hangs over or is squeezed painfully within the confines of lycra. I then peer at my blotchy face and close my eyes and step out the door with the promise of eating less tomorrow.

It's an ugly cycle and I just don't know how to stop it and change my life. On one hand, I do not want to lose my love of food because it makes it easy to make choices and yet it also makes it difficult. So for the time being my obsession will continue full steam ahead and I will just keep on praying, keep on running and keep on hoping.