So – week one!
Mostly I would describe my overeating as just eating too much or not being able to stop. Nothing too emotional or euphemistic, am just a piglet and eat too much.
Ways in which I over eat include…
When I’m bored at work (in the pub) I eat peanuts and crisps. Sometimes I take things such as fruit with me to eat which may or may not temporarily distract me from the Kettle Chips. Most nights , when it’s not busy, I literally feel unable to think of anything else to fill my time.
To avoid wasting things. Brung up poor, I suppose. It’s been better since we’ve got hens (who go hyperbolic with excitement about scraps) but I still cook too much for one plateful, look at the leftovers and think ‘meh, not enough to put in a tupperware and save. I’ll eat it now’.
If it’s there and it tastes nice I will either keep coming back and picking or just plain eat a massive helping and wipe myself out.
Out of habit, all the time. If I’m at a train station I feel compelled to buy something to eat, even if I brought something with me, even if I’m not hungry, because I always buy something at the train station. And I can’t have something savoury without following it with something sweet. Or a cup of tea without a biscuit… The list is endless.
I do things like have chocolate for breakfast because I have this idea that I’m totally, like, relaxed about food and not uptight at all, so hell, I’m the kind of person who can eat chocolate hobnobs for breakfast because I’m so quirky and non-chalant and not even make a thing about it. Look how chillaxed I am I just ate mayonnaise out the jar for breakfast. Bah.
I eat leftovers. Like the poker boys’ pizza’s in the pub – it’s ok because I didn’t buy it – they offered me their dregs! Who am I become?
Neil always encourages me to have seconds. I know it’s not his fault, I could say no, but darn it… It was a good meal…
I get this feeling of panic and unending bleakness if I think of trying to give up sugar so I throw myself into a flap and eat a whole packet of biscuits. I actually feel frightened of the prospect of giving up things.
I pre-plan eating so that if I need to go out I eat early (in case I go to a place where no food exists and I will be stranded for days without sustenance) or make a lunch to take. Often this seems to result in multiple eating events as even if I’ve packed a lunch I always seems to eat before lunch and then I’m hungry again… This might be related to being skint and not wanting to buy stuff but I have an irrational fear of going hungry – of course it’s irrational, look at me, I’d be fine for at least a month without so much as a oatcake. I’ve tried that, just taking oatcakes to sustain me in the long hours but I can’t stick to it.
Lot’s of my eating events seem to me to happen just because I can’t imagine another scenario. Whenever someone offers me a biscuit I say yes because why would I ever say no? When would I ever not want a biscuit? I’m like a Pavlov dog – all mention of cake/biscuit/chocolate gets a ‘yes’ response. I might even sit up on my hind legs and beg.
I’ve have been overeating since…
Hummm…. I don’t know. I was a fat child. I’ve always been a bit chubby. I remember at primary school I hated gym because we had to get changed in front of each other and I was embarrassed about my belly. My mum tells me that I was upset because other kids teased me about my fat belly. Very vividly, I remember queueing up for lunch one day, selecting whatever paltry offerings there were and getting to the pudding section only to be told by the dinner lady, in front of everyone, that my mum says I wasn’t allowed to have cake, I had to have fruit. On later discussion, literally in the last couple of years when it was brought up for the first time, it turned out that my mum had told the dinner lady that I was to be encouraged to have fruit as it was the only vegetable matter they served that wasn’t boiled to death. Clearly, it sticks in my mind as an early food/shame incident which makes me suspect I was overeating even then.
I was conscious of overeating at secondary school and persuaded my mum to take me to a nutritionist who patronised the hell out of me and told me I should only eat one banana a day. As I was so shy about it the staff concluded that my mum was a pushy mother trying to foist a slimming regime on her chunky child.
Since then, I have always overeaten to some extent or another.
I started overeating because…
Food tasted good? I don’t think it was anything more sinister than that. But I’ll think on it and try to come up with something a little more newsworthy.
When I think about overeating I feel…
Annoyed. Frustrated. How can someone who has more (just) than two brain cells to rub together be so entirely unable to control something as simple as what she puts in her mouth? I feel jealous of all those people who just don’t give it a second thought and disgusted with myself and my continual failures. And part of my thinks I would rather learn to want to want to be the way I am and stay fat rather than continually beat myself up about it. After all there isn’t actually anything wrong with me – I’m perfectly healthy.
Dammit. I’m hungry now. Avocado with tomato and home made mayonnaise….