Angry Eating

Well, this morning, my compulsive eating threw me a curve ball.  I was nervous.  I swung and I missed.  Then, on the next pitch I swung again - strike two.  I knew at that point I had two choices.  Either swing and hit, or strike out.  I decided I WOULD get a hit.  I set my mind to it, dug in my heels, gripped the bat, and with all of the determination I could muster - I swung, and my bat met the ball midair - it was a base hit.  I made it to first.  I felt so elated and accomplished after so many strike outs in the past.

It all began with my annoying husband (as usual).  This morning, however, I was more than annoyed - I was pissed.  I wont get into all of the sordid details - I will just say that the man (in the way men can sometimes be self-centered and non-empathetic) made me angry...... really really angry........ like,super angry!

I was so mad - I was seeing red - I was doing that outraged bull kind of nose breathing - my eyes were narrowed and I was coiled up like an aggravated cobra ready to strike.  I was going to show him.  I reached for the bag of BBQ potato chips (not the baked kind), and I was ready to grab a handful, squeezing and letting the demolished chip crumbs spill onto the ground as I brought my fist towards my mouth, and with my face only inches from his, I  intended to stuff in those chips, then wipe the back of my incensed hand across my wrathful lips, spreading potato chip crumbs and BBQ flavored powder across my cheek.  I would violently chew, and then swallow succinctly - thus showing him how completely enraged I was feeling, and causing him deep regret and guilt for causing this total failure of my new healthy lifestyle.  Yeah - I was going to show him.

But - I paused.  I considered the action I was about to take.  I realized that my vehement chip eating display might not convey the exact message I wanted to get across.  I backed away from the chips, and turned back to my husband.  Instead of eating in anger - I spoke in anger (words that, while obviously vivid, well-constructed and brilliant - I probably shouldn't display in print).

Still, I did not find that these words were able to adequately quiet my ire - yet I resisted those chips as well as the cookies, ice cream and whipped cream.  Instead I took my leave, and directed all of my wrath towards the large weeds and small trees that are attempting to overtake my gardens.  Still, upon re-entering my house, and seeing my husbands goofy smiling face, my smoldering fury began to resurface.

The tempting call of fund raiser chocolate began to fill my head, like the sirens singing to Odysseus.  Like, Odysseus, I was strong.  I resisted the irresistible song.  But I knew I couldn't resist for long.  I knew I had to do something to save myself.  The song of the chocolate - the call of the potato chips, the jovial, ludicrous smile  of my husband - all swirling around me was far too much for any mortal.  My very sanity was in peril.

I knew I couldn't fight and win.  My instincts kicked in.  It was fight of flee.  Knowing that I would defeated any moment - I chose flight.  My hand passed over the Oreos, and snatched up my I-pod, and I announced that I would be walking to work, and to please bring my bags to me later.

The music and the walk calmed me, and as my anger subsided, it was replaced by a sense of pride.  I did not turn to food to comfort me in a time of fury.  I spoke from the heart (you should have been there - I really spoke from the heart - ghetto style head roll and all), used methods other than food or violence to calm myself, and found that I could find peace without large amounts of Dunkin Hines frosting.