Fat: The Final Frontier. "Why I Hate Pizza"

I hate pizza.

No really. I love pizza, but pizza is my bane. I cannot eat it casually. I can’t just have one piece. I don’t know how anyone can. It is a “trigger” food for me.

First of all, using words like “hate” and “love” to describe food is not a good sign. I have to remind myself that “normal” people do not have relationships with food. They don’t have to “break up” with sugar, nor do they have a secret “love affair” with chocolate. By the way, the evidence of that love affair remains on your gut.

I argue that if you are more than, let’s say fifty pounds overweight or have some kind of eating disorder like anorexia, bulimia, or obesity (you know who you are) you probably have a relationship with food.

That is why Weight Watchers never worked for me. I thought about food ALL THE TIME. It made me crazy and feel like a failure.

I have to let go of food. I have to let to go of the idea that food will make me “feel” anything at all. Even “full” because, seriously, if you have a weight problem the signal of “full” has been overwritten over and over that you can hardly recognize it anymore.

I have become powerless over food and my life has become unmanageable....

So, about the pizza.

Last week I was trying to be all sensible. I went to a friend’s son’s play. I ate a sensible salad before I left. I did not know that pizza would be ordered later. I was driving another friend with me and I didn’t want to be rude, so I had to stay even though a major “trigger” food would be presented.

By the way, the play was lovely. Time with friends with lovely. Had a great time, overall. Except for the temptation of the enemy.

This is what food addiction is like. I was so distracted by the boxes of pizza; I could hardly relax with friends. I have been under a lot of stress lately and without the comfort of food, I have just had to deal with the stress in... oh, I don’t’ know... I guess one would have to say “constructive ways” like exercise, meditation, counseling, and other mature balanced coping mechanisms that have long been under utilized.

And the pizza didn’t even taste good. Don’t get me wrong, I used to love this kind of pizza. I used to like pretty much all kinds of pizza. However, I have been eating and cooking healthfully at home so much that just turns out to be lower fat, sugar, and salt that when I ate the pizza, all I tasted was fat, sugar, and salt. It is weird how one’s palate can change. I ate a little chocolate brownie bite and the sugar burned my mouth.

To make it worse, they were watching the freaking Food Network. The Food Network is like porn for food addicts. This was not helping my anxiety. I used to watch the Food Network. I was a big Rachel Ray fan for awhile. They had a special all about cheeseburgers. Damnit! The only other place to go in the house was the kitchen.... with the pizza......

In the end, I think I ate three slices of pizza, one breadstick, and one brownie bite. I think I also might have had a wine cooler. This is hardly a binge. I do not believe I ate any more than anyone else. But the anxiety was driving me crazy. I thought about food so much that I thought I ate more than I really did.

Later this week at work, my department ordered pizza as a celebration for a coworker. I politely declined. I felt conspicuous and unfriendly eating my grilled chicken and brown rice that day, but so be it. The thinner I get, the less invisible I become... especially to men.

By the way... Friends and loved ones from the play... You know I love you. This is not about you. DO NOT FEEL BAD!

See, that is the problem. If I had an alcohol problem, I could just avoid a bar and friends and family would understand. But pizza at a child’s play party? That is unrealistic and unfair. I just have to deal.