My Relationship with Food

As I began writing about how I've gained weight living in my new, awesome apartment due to lack of psycho roommates (which I will write soon), I realized that my love for food deserved its own blog post. Well, actually it needs its own confession. Because eating is my everything. Wow, issues much? I'm just kidding, sort of. But really, eating is my favorite activity, and food really is one of my biggest interests. (No, it does not say that on my Facebook profile because I only blog about being a fatass, I don't need Mark Zuckerberg knowing too. Or my 1,200+ FB friends - do not judge, Facebook started when I was a freshman in college, I promise I only have like three friends in real life).

So today, inspired by Tiger's non-press conference fessing up to his own personal issues, I would like to announce:

My name is Rachel, and I'm a food addict.

(You see, by choosing to say it with those words - instead of just saying "I'm a huge fatass" - instills a sort of sympathy for me, kind of like saying you're a sex addict because you were a horny/rich/famous philanderer who was made to feel like rules didn't apply to him. I digress.)

But even though I will admit to these demons, I will not be entering into some sort of rehab (even though that is so the thing to do these days). You see, I choose to work out non-life-threatening issues on my own, and I won't use rehab as blanket redemption for my problems. While I really do have actual dependencies with food (e.g. bored eating, stressed eating, celebratory eating, etc.), unlike most substance addictions, I clearly cannot just stop eating altogether. 'Cause I would die, since, you know, you need food to live. And that wouldn't solve my problems with food, now would it? And no, consuming liquid nutrients to stay alive sounds worse than actual death, so if I couldn't eat, I think I would rather just go ahead and end things for good. Err, dramatic much?

This should be no surprise to you, though, if you've met me, or spent 1 second reading this blog, since you quickly learn that food is the numero uno way into my heart. Co-workers have realized this and since feed me like a pet squirrel or something. While my inability to turn down free food is border-line pathetic, it is a delicious perk of going to work.

Comparing my tendencies to others' battles with their own demons, my foodie desires and conquests tend to be more upscale, fine dining (as opposed to skanky Vegas whores). It's not just the act of eating I love, I tend to find myself watching food porn - whether it be instructional (Barefoot Contessa - Ina Garten, I love you) or pleasure-filled (Best Thing I Ever Ate) - or reading food porn (NY Mag Grub Street). And when it comes to the actual act, I lurve trying new restaurants, dining at my old-faithful places, cooking gourmet food, ordering-in crappy food - I can go on and on, but I think you get the point.

Luckily, though, I have refined my palate and developed a healthy addiction to vegetables. Although, don't get me wrong, put me in any scenario that involves the possibility of onion rings (okay, any fried food), and I will bow down before them like a crack addict to his dealer. Is that sad?

My relationship with food, though, is more than just an obsession; it is part of my genetic makeup. It is in my genes, and, well, now it's in my jeans, if you know what I mean. I was blessed/cursed with the hereditary ability to consume inhuman amounts of food (I assure you it comes from my father's side of the family). And I was raised to be an aggressive eater. I don't really know what that means, but it's obviously a very sex-ay visual. Unfortunately, this tendency has led me to believe I could turn my aggression into competition and always makes me inclined to think that I could possibly take part in certain over-the-top glutton-fests portrayed on Man vs. Food (low-brow food porn). That is, of course, until J reminds me that no one actually wins in an eating competition.

He's probably right.

I don't really know the purpose of this post - kind of like no one really knows the point of Tiger's press conference today - other than the fact that I clearly have a lot of issues, I'm admitting to them, and I'm working on becoming a better eater.