This morning, for reasons that will remain unmentioned, I spent 20 minutes sitting on the floor of a family bathroom in the lobby of a hotel downtown, sobbing uncontrollably. Yes, it's one of Those Days.
As I drove home from that hotel, I found myself thinking, "I want to go to Taco Bell. I want a fucking Burrito Supreme. And a Number 5 combo, with a Baja Blast. It's been such a shitty day and it's not even noon, and I've been so good these last 7 weeks. I deserve Taco Bell."
Many months ago, just after my first serious GERD incident, I quit smoking. Those of you who smoke or who have quit smoking are going to hate me for this, but - Quitting wasn't hard for me. One day I just stopped. The end. One day I woke up with no desire to smoke anymore, and I haven't since. It wasn't a difficult thing to do. I didn't have cravings. I didn't miss it. Smoking was just out of my life, almost like I'd always been a non-smoker. No big deal.
Fast food is a different beast for me. You may tell me that nothing tastes as good as thin feels, but I'll tell you this - nothing feels as good as numbing myself with food. Hi, it's nice to meet you. I'm an emotional eater and a fast food addict.
I didn't stop at Taco Bell. Instead, I went home. For lunch, I ate one
of my homemade burritos, which clocks in at 266 calories. I saved
myself 1,674 calories. It was the right choice. But I'm not sure why I didn't stop at Taco Bell. I'm not sure what happened in my head to make me keep driving. I don't think it was willpower. I think I just got lucky.
I hate that my first thought, my first reaction to stress, is to eat fast food. I hate that food, the thing that we all need to live, is my addiction. I hate that I can't kick it the same way I kicked smoking, right to the curb without looking back.
I hate that the rest of my life is going to be a struggle with The Food Demon, and that I'm not always going to get lucky.