Stress Eating

Yes, I am stress eating. I purchased a nice soft loaf of French bread Monday night to make sandwiches. I did make one turkey sandwich with it yesterday, but last night, and again now, I'm just having it plain with some unsalted butter. I ate a half of stick last night with a big hunk of bread, and I'll finish off the other chunk of butter with the last of the bread now. Excuse me while I pause to take a bite.

Where was I? Oh yes. My husband dragged me to the dollar store with him last night. He needed some props for a lecture today and he told me I should "get out of the house." I was dressed, including bra, so I had no reason not to go. Except I didn't know if I could resist the Mike & Ike's Tropical Typhoon flavored sugar fruit...logs. I love those things, and I'm not a big candy eater.

So instead I got some salted carmel chocolates. There were seven or eight in the bag and they were goddamn delicious. All seven or eight of them. Normally, and technically, I should not eat anything like this, athough once in a while does no harm. So I ate seven or eight too many.

But wait, there's more.

I also got a small bag of York peppermint patties. I haven't had those in years, literally. I ate the whole bag.

This is not about food, this is about stress. Eating like this is something I haven't done in years. I mean that. I indulge in a pastry or cake or ice cream once in a while....but to keep stuffing the shit in when I don't want it and don't have room (although my stomach no longer has the ability to tell me that it's full after years of yo-yo dieting that has messed up my metabolism, hence the need for surgery).

My FIL last weekend told me he thought surgery was "too drastic" after supporting me in this decision for years. I told him I was doing it to put diabetes into remission and that in Europe, they're doing this surgery on on non-obese people to put their diabetes into remission. They're not quite sure how it works. "Oh." He said. And DUH. He should know me well enough by now to know that I'm not doing this for looks. That's the last thing on my mind (athough I do have concerns with large areas of flappy skin later....we'll see.).

So what am I stressing about? I'm stressing over NOT having the surgery. That's what I'm stressing over. Leanne Bearden's body was found today, almost a month after she went missing. This story fascinated me because if I had had the ability to do what she and her husband did--travel around the world for several years--I would have done it. I wanted to, but my dad told me I had to go to community college so I could "stay on the insurance." Exhale.

This vibrant, incredible woman is dead, and I'm alive, and I'm trying to stay alive longer and healthier...and I guess I just don't feel that I deserve it. I've not bettered the world, made it a better place, found a cure for anything, and I just hibernate at home and bitch about bad service online. She deserved to live. The question is, do I?

I'm despairing. I'm going to try and step away from the obsession for a while. I'll be back when I have a firmer grip on my stress and this obsession.