Today I’ve felt hungry. Really hungry. All day long.
I’ve wanted to eat and eat until I couldn’t stop pretty much since lunchtime and even now after pint after pint and litre after litre of water, before and after several meals I’m sitting here still dealing with it and just pissed off that I can’t seem to feel full.
This morning at 11am I had breakfast – a really nice one with some free range eggs brought in by a really nice lady at the SW group.
I mixed them with fried tomatoes and mushrooms and some bacon medallions.
I followed it about 15 minutes later with a with a toffee flavoured syn free yogurt I’d intended for late afternoon as a treat.
At 2pm I felt I could wait no longer and started on my stir fry with salmon steaks for lunch.
When that was gone I waited. I was still hungry – and it wasn’t stopping. I didn’t finish work until 7 and needed to ignore it. I drank coffee and water but still wanted more to eat. I cursed myself for not bringing a potato to microwave and add to my lunch.
Then I remembered a noodle pot in my desk drawer.
1 syn but worth it. I went to the kettle in the rest room.
I tapped my fingers and waited the required 4 minutes for it to absorb the hot water. Then in less time than it took to prepare it was gone.
I felt a little triumphant. I posted a pic of it on Facebook and patted myself on the back. I’d surfed the wave and cheated hunger with 1 syn.
Then it started again driving home.
Food. I needed it. I could buy it on the way. Get something, anything to fill the gap.
I instead drove to the park for a walk but when I got there it started raining heavily and I decided against it. I drove home and opened the cupboard.
Angie said pickles saved her on many occasions. I would eat those and it would go away.
I ate 4 huge pickled gherkins. And a tomato. And then another tomato. I drank another pint of water and went to watch the TV.
Nothing on. Crap on every channel. Shit.
I put a video game on. Gears of War. Violent. Mindless. Shoot aliens. Shoot more aliens. Blow their heads off. Take it out on their digital brainboxes with a digital shotgun.
This is making me think more about food.
Ok – I’m going to cook myself a meal. A good meal. I’m going to put lots of speed in it and Quorn and chop up the last five 1/2 syn Heck chicken sausages I have. I’ll have it with rice and sugar snap peas.
I go away and cook it. I make a large quantity and bulk it up with spring onions baby sweetcorn, asparagus, courgette and mushrooms. I add lots of Tabasco sauce so I can’t eat it fast. I’ll have to take it slow so that it wont burn my mouth.
My brain will get the message that my stomach is so slow in sending before I over eat.
I put half in Tupperware for work tomorrow and take the other half back to the living room.
I eat it while watching Netflix with my feet up. It lasts for 20 whole minutes. I drink more water and take my tablets.
And yet still I’m hungry. But that’s the final meal of the day. If I eat more now then I’m bingeing.
I close my eyes and breathe. I listen to the rain and decide to write about it. As I type on my phone there is still a rhythmic tapping on my recycling bin by the front window from the dripping gutter above it.
The bush next to it is swaying back and forth and I can hear the puddles splashing as they spread over the tyres of cars passing my house.
And still I’m hungry.
Thankfully I don’t have anything left in the kitchen to de-rail me. There’s nothing but ice in the freezer, lettuce in the fridge and beans in the cupboard.
The madness of it is that if I was REALLY hungry, I mean – if I hadn’t eaten for DAYS hungry, badly malnourished hungry, close to starvation hungry – then it would make no difference.
I’d eat the beans. I’d hungrily gnaw at the lettuce. I’d suck the ice cubes. I’d eat the food I put aside for tomorrow, just for the chance of life.
But I don’t.
Because I don’t feel like eating the lettuce or the beans. My mind works differently to that. It wants something to fill me beyond my natural capacity and make me feel INSTANTLY happy.
It wants chips and kebabs and pizza and pasties and sausage and egg mcfuckingmuffins and all the things that I’ve trained it to desire.
It doesn’t care what they will do to me – it wants all that shit because in that one moment when I put it in my mouth and for a few fleeting moments after, before the shame sets in I’ll feel a rush and I’ll feel satisfied.
Then I’ll just feel tired and heavy and low and regretful. I’ll start worrying about how I’ll explain my failure yet again to people I love and look at the floor while they try to make me feel better even though I know I’m a failure again. The cycle will continue and I’ll eventually begin to make excuses not to do things so I can stay in and think negative thoughts and eat more.
And I’m still hungry.
But I’m not going to eat. I am not going to let it get me. I’m going to ignore it. Go to bed. Watch more Netflix or read.
Do anything internet, ANYTHING but eat.