Women who love food, and the food that betrays them

The scale did not have kind things to say to me this week. I’m tempted to say I have a love-hate relationship with food, but that’s not true. I loooove food. It’s pretty much an unrequited love, though; food clearly does not love me back.

Actually, food is like my Bad Boyfriend. You know the one – the one who criticizes you “because he loves you.” (“Frankly, your butt does look big in that.”) Who wants you around only on his terms – he expects you to put up with all his friends and their bad habits, but he doesn’t want to be around your friends and family. (They might tell you how bad he is for you – not that you’d listen.) The one who is just So Cool and so exciting to be around – and convinces you that your life would be boring and drab without him – that you, in fact, are boring and drab, and he is saving you from that. Who you know, deep down, really is bad for you, but he makes you feel loved – and he swears no one else will ever love you like he does. (Of course not; they will love you much, much better – but he’s not about to tell you that.)

Unfortunately, food is not going to break up with me to charm some pretty, young thing with his wiles (now that I’m no longer a pretty, young thing). Food is quite capable of charming thousands of pretty, young things simultaneously.

Nor can I break up with food. I need to lose weight, but a hunger strike isn’t the way to go. I need to learn to “just be friends.” When I dip Oreos in dark chocolate to look like pucks for the hockey team, I need to invite a girlfriend along to make sure I don’t do something stupid. I have to call it a night before the second helping. I have to refuse to hang out with Empty Calories and High Fat and the gang. (I’ve really gotta stop going out with those guys for pizza!) I’ve got to stop letting food put the moves on me. No more taking it fast. Wendy’s, McDonald’s – not the place for me. I want a slow hand to marinate my meats and grill them just so and saute those veggies so they’re still firm, and I could lose myself in their bright colors.

Most of all, I need to be the one to love myself much, much better.