A Day in the Life of a Food Addict

I’m a food addict.

It’s 7.44 am. I wake up to the sound of the cats scratching at my bedroom door. They want breakfast or attention or both. I put one ear plug in the ear that is facing the ceiling and try to sleep some more. For a few seconds it feels like the noises are inaudible but then I can hear them again. A bit more muffled, but enough to keep me up.

Fine, I give in and decide to wake up and feed them. But feed only them, not myself. I want to not have breakfast today because yesterday I ate through a full week’s worth of food.

When I reach the kitchen to get the cat food, the room is a bit darker than my bedroom. Feels colder too and I’d really love a warm breakfast. Thoughts of food start to creep into my mind. Warm, delicious, satisfying food.

And that’s how it all begins, every morning.

While I have not forgotten my resolution from just a few minutes ago, I just ignore it. It seems so unimportant right now. All I’m thinking about is the feel of warm food. I see it on my fork, I can smell its savory aroma. Food…

I pull out a small pan and in a frenzy of spoons, boiling water, chopping and everything in between, I cook up some savory oats and mushrooms and despite them being boiling hot and serving from 2 to 3 people, I devour them in a matter of minutes. Plus one orange.

I feel heavy and confused. I just sit there resting my elbows on the kitchen table, knowing very well I cheated once again and feeling guilty. But the warm oats in my stomach make everything seem like a blur, the world is drifting further and further away. I go back to the bedroom and lie down. Almost instantly drifting back to sleep.

When I wake up it’s almost noon and there’s a well known feeling in my stomach that I have absolutely every time I wake up: hunger! Without thinking twice I go back to the kitchen and polish off a bowl of cinnamon cereal and almond milk.

Feeling better now, I can finally start my day.

I’m in between jobs so I don’t need to change out of my pajamas. I put on a robe and start checking emails and social media. I reply to people and about one later I’m so bored with everything that I’m actually considering eating again. I open up the food delivery service app but quickly close it back up. I know I’m just not hungry. I know I’m just bored. I need to stop.

I go play with the cats in an attempt to do anything else than think about food but of course, it’s the only thing I think about. Half an hour later I order a burger and fries, plus a salad for dinner.

Although I’m still full from my double breakfast, I’m so eager to have my food delivered already. There’s heavy traffic and the delivery guy is late. It’s been more than one hour since I ordered and I’m getting anxious.

When he finally arrives I stare daggers at him and grab the bag of food. I take it to the kitchen, close the door behind me and rip it open as if I’m ravaging a much-expected prize. I do this every time I order food, which is almost every day. There’s nothing else in my mind than the boxes of food I’m about to open.

I eat everything, the salad, the huge burger, the fries and one more orange, because every meal has to end with something sweet. I drag myself back to bed holding my stomach. It hurts but the feeling of fullness sends me back to sweet oblivion for 2 more hours. I wake up again promising to myself to not have dinner today but already regretting I didn’t save some food from the order for after sleep. That emptiness is still there despite the fullness.

My whole body is heavy. Everything is swollen. I’m having problems becoming mobile again. I go to the bathroom and see my distended face in the mirror, hating every moment of my failure to stop eating.

The only thing that can help give me a feeling of relief would be eating… but I’d have to cook and I have no more room inside my stomach. I sit on the edge of my bed and try to bury down feelings of self-hatred and do something productive. I decide to go shopping so I’d have something to cook tomorrow.

I make a list but I’m too bloated to put on any clothes. No pair of pants would fit. I lay back down and decide to do it the next day, when I’ll be less bloated because I won’t have dinner. I spend the whole day in bed with the cats, scrolling until night comes.

Some more cereal and milk seem appropriate, that’s not too heavy, is it? I eat them in bed while watching somebody explain how one of the first things to do in case you’re addicted to food is to just stop eating so much…

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