I have often thought that one of the reasons I knew I shouldn't be with Rob was because I couldn't stop eating. I would leave his place in the evening and just pig out on anything and everything I could get my hands on. Of course, at the time I was constantly stoned - another sign, obv - so I blamed it on that. But then I stopped getting stoned and the eating got worse. When it got to the point that I would think about what I would eat while I was still with him or, worse still, when I would leave so I could go home and eat, I knew something was wrong. I was eating my feelings instead of feeling them.
It's an interesting habit and one I've practiced for as long as I can remember - although I didn't always know it and would never have admited it. It wasn't until I became so much more self aware that I realized that this was one of the ways I used food. Like a drug. To run, to hide, to avoid, to detach. Now it's a sign of underlying problems that I watch for.
When I started seeing Jeff again, I knew that it was right because food wasn't an issue or consideration. Even when I was upset I didn't feel the need to put the problems in my mouth. But something interesting happened the other day after I spent nearly two days with Jeff. I couldn't get enough to eat. Literally. And I recognized that I wasn't hungry, I just wanted to eat, munching from boredom and generally using it for something to do. My instant reaction was to analyze it: was something wrong, was I eating to cover something up? It's something that you can only see with time so I stuck a pin in it to review at a later date.
Then when I was with Jeff again? I didn't look for food at all. I ate for fuel, not for comfort. Had a normal amount of dinner. No snacks. No cravings. No thoughts about food.
That says a lot.
I totally need to break up with him. My pants are getting way too loose. JOKE! Fuckin' love, wah?
