Confessions of a Food Addict
Glo's writer opens up about her out-of-control eating habits and how she finally learned to deal with her addiction
Life's problems, if not solved, could at least be forgotten with the help of a pint of Ben & Jerry's Wavy Gravy. People could disappoint me ... food never did. I ate whether bored, angry, elated, tired, happy, frustrated, bonding with friends, lonely, celebrating, tired. And, like most addicts, along with the food, I stuffed down feelings I didn't want to deal with.
My addiction to food took years to fully develop. After the Depression, my parents thought no baby could ever get enough food, or love (the two often intermingled in my family). As a toddler, I noticed if other slices of birthday cake were larger than mine. And I complained loudly!
My father spent his formative years in an orphanage, and the habits he learned there affected our kitchen table decades later. Dad said that, in the orphanage, if you blinked, the food was gone. Therefore, you had to grab all food as fast as possible, and shove it directly into your mouth. This fostered my proclivity for speed eating, for always cleaning my plate (even the garnish) and for disregarding basic biological cues like hunger.
In my early 30s, I survived a horrible car accident. My throat was paralyzed, so I had feeding tubes up my nose, and I never slept. When I was wheeled out of intensive care, weak, pathetic, my grandmother took one look at me and said, "You look fabulous! You're so thin!"
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