The constant calculation of calorie intake consumes my thoughts. I am worried about eating too much or eating to little; exercising too much or exercising too little. I am in constant pursuit of equilibrium, like my body attempting to reach homeostasis. The thing is I cannot handle computations of this magnitude, affected by every breath and step I do or don’t take, every gram of peanut butter I add to my favorite breakfast or every drop of grease I remove from my food.

My thoughts become full of what I will be eating next. I begin thinking about eating as soon as I finish one meal. I am always hungry, constantly trying to win a losing battle. Everything I eat tastes the same now. Everything is bland.

My chicken is plain because adding sauce adds sugar or fat or salt. My yogurt resembles the taste of sour cream and my homemade granola with a hint of honey tastes more like burnt oatmeal than granola.

There are only so many times that I can stand eating a spinach and banana smoothie before the sight of the green slush diminishes my hunger.

There are only so many days that I can snack on some carrots and cucumbers while everyone around me eats chips and dip.

My relationship with food has become an abusive one. As an athlete I need to eat and I am often left hungry after spending several hours running up hills, lifting weights, or cycling. But, food has become unenjoyable as I begin to tally up the damage my chicken and spinach sandwich on wheat bread has done to my total allotted calorie intake.

I bake banana bread for my mother, but can’t eat it because I know how much sugar I had to use. I cook up some food for dinner but only eat a little because I know what the fat content is. I drive myself up the wall trying to concoct healthy meals that are low in carbs, fats, sugars, cholesterol, salt, and anything else that might not fit with myfitnesspal. What I am left with is usually plain chicken breast and some vegetable with a glass of water. There is no living in this meal. There is no enjoyment in nourishing my body.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s