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I am both fascinated/repulsed by competitive eating.  I don’t know the how or the why of competitive eating.  Why would you eat until you’re sick?  How does one even get involved in such things?

And how much glory is really involved in competitive eating?  Not much, I’d say.  Although everyone seems to know who Joey Chesnut is, including me.

Anyway, I watch Man Vs Food all the time– and I’ve no idea why.  I can’t stand being full (just one of my many issues surrounding all things edible), yet I am fascinated by a man who can gorge himself on a variety of comestibles on a regular basis.  And do it on TV, no less.

All this just to say that lately it’s been me vs. food on a daily, miserable basis.  My main nemesis?

Wheat.  Gluten.  All things related to wheat, and gluten.  Oh- and soy.  Soy protein, soy flour, soy sauce.

You’d think it’d be easy to avoid two simple little ingredients.  But you’d be so fucking wrong.

You see, the problem is that our food is way to processed.  And while you think you know what’s in your food, you’d be surprised to find all the shit that’s also in your food. Every time I think I’m safe in what I”m eating, I find out I’m wrong.

For instance:  cheesecake.  New York Cheesecake, to be specific.  Didn’t eat the crust, got way sick. There’s flour in cheesecake!

Also, potato chips:  wheat flour in potato chips.

Also, I cheat.  I cheat like a mutherfucker.  Like most kids who grew up in the South, I grew up eating a lot of breaded & fried stuff.  Also, in my quest to avoid meat, I ate a lot of bread.  I love bread.  I could live on bread and butter.  Or, at least I used to be able to.  Not any more.

I don’t know what causes Celiac Disease (the official name of my ailment) and it doesn’t really matter.  Because really, it’s all the over-processed, factory-farmed food that is probably the likely cause.  Nobody knows from whence their food came, nor do they care.  But I’m starting to.

I hate reading labels; I hate asking at every restaurant what’s in the food.  I hate being so picky about it all.  But when I’m not diligent, as in the case of the cheesecake incident, I’m sick for days.

Is this what my eating experiences will be like from now on?  Worrying over what’s in everything I put in my mouth, anxious that it might cause lengthy and painful reaction?

Awesome.

 

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What it’s like:  an essay on food and obsessions.

OCD makes it impossible for me to eat, savor, enjoy, be full.  I never eat what I really want because there are too many rules.  There are too many OCD thoughts that govern my decisions. So, I plan, I think, I obsess.  I buy.  But I never eat.

Yet I am always hungry, always desirous.  Always want something more, or something other.  Something different.  Never satisfied.  Always afraid. Can’t be spontaneous about eating:  must plan.

It is the thing around which everything else hinges, hangs.  Where and what can I eat?

It is a large concern.

But I’ll do better, tomorrow.  This is the thought at the end of the day.

I’ll do better tomorrow.

Want to read more?  Check out my memoir, She’s So Heavy, at Smashwords:

She\’s So Heavy: A Memoir

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