Another Day, Another Binge

I binged today.  It started out innocently enough.  This morning I rolled out of bed starving, something that rarely happens.  Instead of my usual breakfast of coffee with a dash of non-dairy creamer, I ate a banana.  Not in itself such a bad thing, but it threw off my routine.  My precious, structured routine.

One fundamental truth about me is that I am a creature of habit.  I like a well-planned life, and go to great lengths to make sure it stays that way.  Every part of my day is mapped out in the calendar that resides somewhere between obsessive and compulsive in my brain. 

Everyday starts with a cup of coffee, followed two hours later by a piece of fruit then some jerky and a minuscule handful of pistachios two hours after that.  The afternoon means another cup of coffee and some dried fruit (Brothers-ALL-Natural Crisps, how I love thee).  Dinner usually involves picking through my kitchen for half an hour.  A careful bite here.  A nibble there.  Making sure my choices always fall in the safe foods category.  If my boyfriend is there, I’ll prepare a well-balance meal -- quarter plate whole grains, quarter plate lean protein, half a plate vegetables (a salad plate for me, a dinner plate for him).  Dessert is a serving of fruit (optional) and a cup of tea before bed (no sweeteners, of course).  If not for my BED, I would be the healthiest girl alive.

And therein lies the kicker.  Any deviation from my routine invariably leads to a binge, and that’s what happened to me today.  I was already thrown off balance from this morning so I was unprepared for the two homemade cookies and three homemade crostinis my friend brought me at work -- so sweet of her, but so misguided.  Those replaced my morning snack.  From there it was all downhill.  I grabbed piece after piece of chocolate from the candy bowl on the reception desk, ate two pieces of pizza left over from an office potluck and bought a like-it size sorbet for lunch.  Only after all that, with my head buzzing from sugar and my stomach soured, did I stop.  The worst part is I know it’s not over.  Even though I’ll fight it, I know the binge will continue once I’m home.  My fridge is full of leftovers and my roomie just refilled the candy dishes near the front door.  In other words, I’m doomed.

The destructive side of me wants to give in with no struggle, to slip silently into the cool embrace of my ED.  I have no strength left to fight.  Truth be told, I’m not all that emotionally stable at the moment.  My dog is scheduled to have two potentially malignant masses removed tomorrow morning, my job has been on a slow downward spiral for about a year now and my boyfriend will be gone out of state the next three weeks for job training.  Nothing seems to be going right and there doesn’t seem to be a thing I can do.  Except eat.  Or not eat.

Food is my best friend and my very worst enemy.