I don't know if you are like me or not, but I am addicted to food. From my first conscious thought in the morning to my last one at night I am fantasizing about what I will eat next. It doesn't matter that I may have consumed a huge meal and I can barely breath. My thoughts are already mentally mapping out my next foray into the pantry. I will raid the frig looking for anything that would fill that slightly hollow place in my gut. Maybe a slice of cheese, some yogurt, or even a mouthful of jelly might hold me for a .......second or two. If my food search should come up empty, desperation would set in. I could see myself racing to a street corner. There I would stand next to a homeless guy with my own home made sign reading "SNACKLESS." I would hold out my cup begging for someone to drop in a Frito, a few chips, or even a crumbled Oreo.
I walk thirty minutes on my treadmill or ride five miles on my bike in an effort to work on getting in shape. After all that exertion I fall into my chair with a cookie, a couple of Hershey kisses and a diet coke. Weight training is much more tolerable if I turn on the TV and watch those McDonald's commercials as I work my biceps.
It is tough being a foodaholic. Even shampoos, shower gels, and bubble baths have such delicious names. You can wash your hair in strawberry scents, bathe with chocolate body scrub, and top it off with raspberry cream lotion. You already smell like a buffet without ever stepping near one.
I can't even escape food while doing my laundry. I seem to wear whatever food item I have recently consumed. The sauce on my blouse causes me to reflect on that pulled pork sandwich I ate. That dribble on my Bermuda shorts is the remains of a frozen custard I consumed. My t-shirt looks like a menu with potato salad, roasted chicken, and butter remains splashed across it. Why even the clothes themselves begin to look like food items. I think that whole load of t-shirts looks like one giant taco!