No, Josh, not that kind of pie.
Yes, I went to Marie Callendar's and didn't eat a slice of pie for dessert. Since I'm typing this, it obviously did not kill me. Of course it helped that my friend Derrick and I had just had a conversation about American's "obesity epidemic". The sad and scary part is that I actually don't really like sweets so much as I did when even five years ago. Yet I continue eat them as a reminder of a time that they tasted good and "helped" me feel better, and yet... they don't anymore.
There are times I think I'm some sort of food nymphomaniac - never satisfied no matter how much I get. Does that make me a foodomaniac? that's not at all clever sounding... latin - latin for food google: victus, nutrimens, esca, epulae, diaria, alimonium, alimentum. Victusmaniac? Diariamaniac? (ewww) Nutrimaniac? (nutrimaniac, ma-ni-ac on the floor... and she's eatin like she ne-ver ate be-fooooore - visions of self on chair on stage being doused in a bucket of barbeque sauce - Weird Al eat your heart out).
I really thought about that pie last night. Rolled visions of it around in my head. Imagined the taste.
And realized that while it didn't really sound appealing, I *wanted* the feelings of comfort associated with it. Comfort that really ain't gonna happen.
In homage to Bekki's inspirational blog - I remember a time when I was sane (at least about food, anyway). For the year surrounding my divorce.
I ate when I was hungry. I stopped when I was full not FULL. I craved good for me foods and took the time to cook them. I was depressed as hell, but things were in flux, I was distracted and food gave me no comfort.
Then the flux stopped, things became calm and ordered and "boring". I've gained 30 lbs over the 4 years since my divorce. Food is the lazy (wo)man's exclamation point in a day stuck in the rut. But... it takes more and more to knock me out of the rut. Uncomfortably full. Lots of taste, fat, sugar, calories.
So... now to find a way to remind myself that the bacon double cheeseburger/pie/sushigorgefest I'm about to eat looks like the road to happiness but isn't what I really want - what I really want is challenge and purpose to knock my out of my rut. Of course bacon double cheeseburgers are easy and immediate as opposed to the difficulty and heartache and work of pursuing a purpose, a life, a goal. That is, until you're 4 years and thirty pounds down the bacon double cheeseburger life substitute road.