Food Masochism

I've come to the conclusion that I'm a masochist - when it comes to food (so sorry it doesn't show itself in a more interesting arena. For that, please visit Ms. Belle de Jour, whose blog is right over there on the sidebar).

You see, I've been trying to eat healthfully and work out since June. I refuse to call it a diet, because that conveys a sense of being temporary, and I'm trying to make permanent changes. On the whole I'm pretty successful, but occasionally (lately more than occasionally) I decide that I'm in the mood for some fast food or sweets and I allow myself to have it, while trying to keep portion size down so I stay somewhat inside my calorie range for the day.

The kicker is, I feel like absolute crap when I eat the foods that taste good. I get bloated, gassy (which I really can't abide), sluggish, and generally feel icky. Now when I ate like this all the time, I never noticed the difference, since I didn't have anything to compare it to. Now that the majority of my meals are healthy, I really notice the difference.

The masochism part comes in because after some careful analysis (done in my own head), I've noticed that I hit the fast food places when I'm particularly down on myself - when I feel I've been unfair (especially to The Boy), when I feel like I've failed (like making a mistake at work) or when I feel like I should be punishing myself in some way. It's not emotional eating in the sense that if I get angry or sad I head for the fridge - generally if I'm emotional, I tend not to eat. I'm just starting to notice that my chosen method of self-punishment is through food. I did something wrong, so I need to eat crap so I feel like crap.

I actually really like the healthy food I eat - mainly things like chicken with salsa, broccoli, whole wheat pitas, yogurt, milk, fruit. The one thing I love that I try not to eat a lot of is cheese, but I'll even have that as long as I can incorporate it into my daily calories. So it's not that I'm running away from the healthy stuff - I really think this is my chosen form of punishment.

Now that I realize that, perhaps I can knock it off. While I don't think I'll ever be into the psychiatric definition of masochism, I think perhaps I can channel these impulses into something a bit more constructive. Any suggestions?

Apologies to Steven Page...

...for stealing his title. For those of you who don't know, Mr. Page wrote and performed a song titled Wilted Rose as part of his solo effort The Vanity Project. While the song's lyrics contemplate the political landscape, the title means something a bit different for me.

These days I'm the one feeling like a wilted rose - the bloom of youth has left me, yet there are still glimpses of the potential that was once there. I'm no longer the ingenue with all the potential of a wide open life ahead of me, yet I'm not in the winter of my life (as far as I know). If you squint hard enough, you can still see the beauty (figuratively speaking) that once was.

Lest you think this blog is some sort of downer pity party, my intention is for it to be something far different. While this rose is wilted, it still has worth. You can still tell it's a rose, and still appreciate it as such. The wilted roses are the ones that get pressed into scrapbooks, the ones that signify experience and memories. The wilt represents the weight of time's passing and the gaining of experience. So, yes - I AM a wilted rose. And proud of it.