You don’t mind if I just take TheGloss and turn it into my personal food diary for a minute, do you? No? I mean, my grandparent’s friends already think that since I work on the Internet I run a blog where I list everything I ate that day, just like their 14 year old granddaughter. So, I figure I’m just giving into a natural impulse, here.
Since you’re cool with that: I stress eat, sometimes, how about you?
The other day, I was irrationally anxious and upset over some suff. Nothing major, all kind of minor things, but they built up and left me super-tense. Like, rubber-band-about-to-snap-tense. Now, normally during the week, I make an effort to eat well. Not well in a “I am a raw vegan” way but well in a “yes, I’ll have an egg white omelet for breakfast and salad for lunch” kind of way. Well in the way that I imagine most people eat when they try to eat well.
Not the other day. I guess we don’t need to go point by point, because I’m not the journalist that my grandparent’s friend’s 14 year old granddaughter is, but I ended up at a chocolate tasting and figured “sure, eat all the chocolates.” And since I’d done that, I went out and got a piece of pizza afterwards, because, hell, my diet was shot anyway. And then a cupcake. Because it had a frosting flower on it, and I find those visually appealing. And then I might have eaten some thin mints I had lying around my apartment before passing out in a sugar coma. It wasn’t a night I’m really proud of.
It honestly stopped being fun right after the pizza, and it didn’t make me feel better about anything.
I don’t feel bad about all the eating, but I do feel bad that it wasn’t really borne out of a spirit of enjoyment. Because eating great food should be a happy thing, not a thing you do to try to distract yourself from worrying. Generally I try to eat well during the week because I have something cool in sight like “Sunday, I’m going to go out to my favorite brunch place and I’m going to inhale a plate of breakfast nachos.” I’ve kind of accepted that my entire life is going to be a process of balancing loving food with the pre-teen ballerina inside me who still conducts a rib-count every morning, and I’m okay with that 85% of the time.
Until I’m really worried or freaked out, and then I just want to bury my head in a box at Vosges. The stress eating day I found myself wishing that, even though I’m not overweight, I had someone like the sponsors the people in Weight Watchers call. And that person would say “you probably need to talk about your problems instead of following up that pizza with a cupcake.” But talking about problems is tough and time consuming, and buying pretty pink cupcakes with a flower on them is easy, so God knows how effective that would be.
Now, I know this isn’t a terrible thing to do, especially since it happens very rarely. And I guess it’s good that my impulse is “EAT ALL THE CHOCOLATES” and not “DO ALL THE HEROIN”. Still, I’d like to find a better way to deal with personal stuff. A more self contained way.
And I don’t even know if that’s entirely possible. Most people I know, if they don’t deal with personal problems by eating, drink, or chain smoke, or organize fight clubs that they’re always trying to convince me to join. I’m into that, because, wow, what a great way to burn off some calories. (Tyler says to tell you I’m joking).
So, I guess the real problem isn’t stress eating, but just stressed-out behaviors we resort to in general. Do you have any crutches you lean on when you’re stressed? Have you found better ways to deal with anxiety? Do you want to join me for breakfast nachos? All valid questions!