I’m not obese, I am not even overweight. I consider myself to be a nutritionally savvy individual. I also understand a balanced diet and portion sizing. I am an avid reader of food labels (and believe me I read EVERY label). I would even go as far to say I could recite the step by step process of wheat milling in which makes a whole grain so very different from a refined grain. I would like to say I feel so well-informed, that even healthy fats don’t scare me.
My grocery cart is filled with as many organic and all natural products that the supermarket will allow. I rarely eat fried foods. I don’t drink excessively. I don’t do drugs (not illegal ones at least). Running three half marathons in the last 16 months and usually logging anywhere from 10-18 miles per week, I’d be viewed as a competent runner to boot. Pretty ideal lifestyle if I don’t say so myself. Super amazing lifestyle, right? WRONG! Oddly enough what I am about to introduce you to is a long, sad, and lonely path in which I have lost my sense of self. The proof is in the pudding, not everything is what it seems.
I am an addict.
My drug of choice, cupcakes. More broadly sugar.
In addition to being a complete addict for sugar I suffer from a less well-known eating disorder titled, Binge Eating Disorder a.k.a BED. I am currently in recovery and do a fair amount of reading, research, and experimentations regarding BED. I am not a doctor, therapist, or nutritionist, so please feel free to take what I say with a grain of salt. As part of my recovery I am currently being treated with antidepressants and psychotherapy in an attempt to recover from this physically and mentally debilitating disorder. This s a classic tale of Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde where I am finally ready to put the latter to rest and regain control in my life.