Let me allow it to become perfectly clear, I hate food! I loathe and detest it! Maybe, just maybe, I hate the keep it in check has over me. Both physically and mentally; I want it; I need it; I hoard it; and I fantasize concerning this. I yearn for it most importantly physically ever made.
I am a binge eater.
I started hoarding food within my closet and binging at nighttime on whatever I had hidden all in the age of seven. I smoked for several years, mainly on an alternative to eating. When push reached shove, I would rather smoke than eat. During those decade, my binge eating lessened. Oh, when I stop smoking cigarettes, which I did cold turkey, the eating and binging delivered with a vengeance. First, I was pregnant, and I was eating for just two, three, maybe ten! My list of doctors had me tested numerous times for diabetes, because I gained weight so quickly. It always went back negative. I was simply overeating, binge eating. One doctor even warned me that I would probably have a large baby if I continued the burden gain. And large he was: a stunning 10.4 pounds!
The weight piled on for many years, and I tried every diet and medication ever made. I even tried the medications touted to get highly dangerous! I dropped excess weight twice using hypnosis. Over all, I would say I lost an overall total of 300+ pounds. One thing throughout my weight reduction successes that remained consistent, and do not addressed, was my mental and physical being hooked on food, my binge eating. Even within my smallest, a size 10, I was always around the verge of weighing more than two hundred pounds again. I felt, with the lack of better words, within the edge. Meaning it had been only a few time before I would surrender and concede defeat. I did everything, including prayer, to avoid the inevitable. But again, I would sacrifice everthing! I betrayed myself, put my health in jeopardy, and threw in the towel! I quit! I was an inability once again.
This last time of defeat was the worst yet. I ate massive degrees of food, a case in point, that whenever thirty plus numerous marriage and understanding of my seating disorder for you, I scared my partner. In truth, I even scared myself. I, inside the two short weeks of Christmas break, wear over 23 pounds. People say it wouldn’t be done, but I am living proof it could possibly and did. I weighed 177 pounds ahead of the break. After vacation, I hopped within the scale and discovered it go well past 200 pounds. I jumped off that damn scale before it could possibly settle on several. Twenty-three pounds would be a kind estimate.
Let me show you what happens within the mind of the binge eater or food addict. We are going to make use of a soft iced sugar cookie as our drug associated with preference. Did I say drug? I meant food. I will bullet the task that occurs:
• I picture it inside my mind.
• I fantasize about every feeling I get while eating it including, yet not limited to, the soft cookie using my bottom lip, my top teeth slowly pushing from the icing and cookie, merely to have the sugar dance on my small tongue and sing all the way to my stomach, giving me the immediate sensation of your high, a sugar high.
• I get into my car and drive on the nearest market very likely to have them. The fantasy being intermittently interrupted through the pesky task of driving.
• I go from the store and buying 2, 3 or maybe even 5 boxes. I lie towards the cashier, “I surely hope my son’s class likes these treats I am buying on their behalf.”
• I get to my car, almost in the run, but remaining cool. I open the plastic container that seems for being challenging my intellect. The anticipation is exciting but unbearable.
• I sign up for one rich in, almost unattainable expectations, put it into my mouth and gently push my teeth with the icing and also the cookie wanting to feel that sweet high! It does not happen. Where is the dancing and singing?
• I eat another and another and another and another wanting to have that singing and dancing high like I once did. I eat every last one of these. My expectations are dashed.
• Now I pound myself emotionally with the amount I have just consumed. I hit low and I hit hard! I am brutal.
• Then comes remorse. I am now weary and suffering the physical connection between what I have consumed. (I secretly remove any evidence.)
• I promise myself again, it won’t continue. I tell myself I will be good. I might even enlist my spouse to help! It will not happen again!
Until the next time.
There is hope my fellow bingers! The American Journal of Medicine as well as the medical community now consider binge eating a condition that can be successfully given medication and/ or therapy. It is called Binge Eating Disorder (BED). Finally, doctors recognize that it is more than merely a case of will. There is physical data and evidence showing a medical phenomenon.