I think it`s a chilling reminder of my mortality, that I am never more than a few hours from that grisly implosion of a death known as starvation. No matter how much I eat, before long the cravings resurface, and the withdrawal symptoms ravage my innards.
"I am Snook Draddots," I would say, were my name actually Snook Draddots, "and I am a food addict."
It`s a sad story, but it`s true. I was a food baby, in fact. My mother was using when she was pregnant with me. I`ve been on food ever since. It`s wrecked my life.
For my first fifteen years, I experienced rapid weight gain, and the digestive symptoms that persist to this day are too unpleasant to discuss. I`ve been unable to quit. The patch -- where you duct tape some potato salad to your arm every morning -- doesn`t help at all.
One time I had a 16 hour flight across the Pacific, during which time I ate nothing that could be remotely described as food, but I fell off the wagon shortly after landing.
But enough is enough. I`ve come to an epiphany about just how much I`ve let food run my life for me, and it`s time for that to stop. No more food for me.
I`m quitting food cold turkey.
