Because I’m thin, some people assume I don’t have
overwhelming food cravings. Let me tell you, my cheese drawer calls my name all
day long. I don’t use ice because then I’ll see the chocolate and vanilla ice
cream that I pretend isn’t in my freezer.
I make a lot of promises when it comes to desire.
Later you can have it, I say to myself. Gluten free crackers holler for a
homemade dip. Because gluten wreaks havoc on me, I eat it sparingly or I’ll get
what my dad called heartburn. It’s like Pavlov’s dog, with the pup that
salivates when the food bell rings. Pavlov even called the dogs' anticipatory salivation
"psychic secretion.”
My dictionary says intuition is direct perception of
truth. I know for a fact that I am at war with food. I want it, I fight for it,
I shop for it, I slay it, I regret the emotions that get out of hand when I eat
too much or too often.
It’s lucky for me that I love to read more than I
love to eat. That’s another trick I play. I replace my overwhelming desire for lots
of food with other things I like more, like a movie or conversation with a
friend. As in war, I feel a satisfaction when I win my battle with food, even though it’s a gratification that’s never fully realized. But anyway, I gotta go. Time for a root beer float.