Friday, May 1, 2009

#39 Don't Stuff Your Face, Face Your Stuff

My sister in law suggested that a good topic for women in their 40's trying to age with grace and giggles would be to babble about sex. Well, since this babble is about me [and my kids, husband and parents read this], I need to be a little careful with what I share. However, I do feel comfortable talking about a certain topic -- Promiscuity.

I am promiscuous. I admit it. I've been known to change my love interests on short notice and my enjoyment of "the act" is always tempered with the knowledge that I am doing something wrong. Sadly, my release at the end of each encounter is short term and always a letdown. Over the past couple of years I have been pretty in control of my dalliances, but every once in a while, I lose my self control and let loose. My last indiscriminate act, I'll admit, is a little humiliating to share, and when my son reads this, and my friend Michael too, they are going to be a little [ok, maybe a lot] angry with me. Anyway, to go directly to the "dirt" of this story, I found my son's stash of Mallomar Cookies and had an afternoon delight with 6 of those dark chocolate covered marshmallows on a graham cracker cookie. Each bite was amazing and wonderful and during the 5 minute act, I was in heaven. Alas, the letdown quickly followed, and I once again was angry at myself for being so weak, and since my body wasn't used to so much lov'n, I could hardly keep my eyes open and had to lie down for a 20- minute afternoon nap.

Ok, you got the idea. I'm promiscuous with food. Sadly, I could go on and on with all my indiscretions, but suffice it to say, I'm glad they are fewer and more far between then they used to be. A little promiscuous is bad, but a food slut is the pits!! So, let's discuss a different kind of relationship, one of cause and effect. I want to share a wonderful saying with you that I received in an email from a reader commenting on one of my babbles. The writer shared a saying she heard years ago at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting -- "Don't stuff your face, face your stuff".

The act of overeating and/or binging and/or closet eating, for many, is due to unfinished business. Somewhere, sometime during a person's life, food became the way to deal with issues that couldn't be dealt with in a normal way. Ah, the cause and effect. I wish I could say that I eat to live, but I know that I live to eat. I guess WHY is the question? I do have little bursts of insight as to my past and why I do what I do, but the problem is that I have used food for so long for almost every reason and mood, that I'm not sure where to start. Sometimes I find myself eating [like alone, in the car, guiltily] even when I am feeling fine and good. So, why do I eat alone or eat when I'm really not hungry, or overeat until I'm stuffed and sick and nauseated? The reason behind this type of eating has somehow gotten lost . I think it has something to do with comforting myself although it does seem more like punishing myself.

The positive, if you can see past all the food wrappers, is that although I have this issue, everything in my life is good. I'm still able to keep the weight off in a healthy way, I have a great relationship with my kids and husband, a wonderful circle of friends, a fantastic dog, a car with seat warmers and a house with central air conditioning. It's a conundrum. Whatever the reason, it has become a habit and as we know, habits are very hard to quit. It would be the discovery of the decade if I could figure out what exactly that unknowing "IT" is and vanquish it, but I've also learned that knowing why you do something, doesn't necessarily mean you can stop the behavior.

And so as not to beat a dead horse, I shall end with this idea. In January 2009, ABC reported on a study comparing men's and women's brains when tempted with different types of food after a 3 day fast. The brain scans showed that where the men's brains looked calm and worked less, the women's brains lit up in all the emotion and hunger desire areas. As is common knowledge, the sex drive of [most] women in their late 40's begins to dwindle. Wouldn't it be great if the brain area that controls our sex drive is also the same area that gives us our cravings and drives us to eat and eat and eat?

A girl can fantasize.... can't she?

Quote of the Day: "Success is getting what you want. Happiness is wanting what you get" Dale Carnegie


Michelle said...

Delightful and funny.

Michael said...

OK, so here I sit, carefully pondering my words. I want to encourage and I certainly do empathize, yet I feel the need to brow beat just a little as well. However, seeing as I am partially to blame for the binge, being He who started this whole "Mallomars hidden in your son's room" thing, I need to take it easy on you.

OK, point number one is that it's OK to fall off the self defined wagon once in a while. It isn't as if you did it with something you don't love and desire. For example, if you found a hidden stash of yogurt covered emu jerky clusters and devoured them I would say you needed real help! But you didn't! You indulged with something you love. It's OK.

Point number two is that you didn't eat the entire box or worse yet, the entire stash of cookies! Brava!

But here comes the brow beating...

Oh Bobbie! If those are the same Mallomars I gave your son they date back to the year God made dirt! How could you eat them! They are so old! OK, lets take a moment and calm down... Alright, I will assume they are not as old as dirt. I will believe in my heart of hearts your son has a Mallomar supplier at school. Well then I strongly suggest you sit down with the rascal and have that talk. You know the one... "Honey, you know I love you and I would do anything in the world for you, so would you do Mommy one small favor? Would you mind terribly finding a new and better spot to hide your Mallomars? Mommy just cant deal with their luscious, chocolaty goodness!"

From one food slut to another, I love you!


Bobbie's Babbles said...

For those of you who didn't figure it out, Michael is the devil who bought my son 3 boxes of mallomars.... not to share with his loving and wonderful mother.

Your brother said...

I'm amazed my mother didn't sniff out those Mallomars all the way from Florida! As a kid, I never could understand how whenever we got those things home from the grocery store and I opened the box for the first time, I'd be lucky to find one or two cookies left!
Michael, you're as bad as Bobbie and my mother. I don't care if you didn't live on Long Island when we were growing up. I know you somehow got into those boxes and stole those cookies right out from under my nose all the same! Damn food sluts. Can't hide an Oreo in a castle from these junkies :)