It's not about the pizza. It's about what the pizza represents.

Last night I was on the phone with my friend, having yet another conversation where I am trying not to cry, trying to get over it, trying to be ok with this new lifestyle of mine. I had just gotten back from a 4 day work event, and while I was gone, I kept thinking "I can't wait to go home, sit on my blue couch, and eat a whole pizza."

I told my friend about this, and her response was "yeah, but once you eat that pizza, that ten minutes of enjoyment turns into a regret of over 1,000 calories."

Her response was absolutely correct, but really bothered me. It bothered me because, I am asking my naturally thin friend to understand this important point: It's not about the pizza. It's about what the pizza represents.

Why, in my excitement of relaxing, do I always attach FOOD to that great experience of relaxation and relief? Why can't my thoughts be "I can't wait to go home, sit on my blue couch, and watch tv, or read a book, or talk with my friends, or whatever, fill in the blank." Why does MY blank always end up being - food?

Our naturally thin friends want to help us. They love us. They care about us in every possible way. But the truth is, they might never struggle with food the way we do. Their relaxation dream might not include food. Mine always will. I think my mind will always wander there, always wish I could do that, always wonder what it would be like.

So if it's not about the pizza, what is it about? This might help you (if you don't struggle with food) to understand your friend that does. It is about reverting to a lifestyle of doing what I want, being alone with one of the only friends I let close to me (food), and being able to control my life. You see, when I overeat, when I use food as a comfort, it is historically at home, in private, by myself. It is shameful, it is fearful, it is perpetual, it is an addiction.

I'll be honest...in the old days, it was not uncommon
for me to power through a whole pizza from
Salvio's. And I mean...power through. Past the point
of being full. Just to do it, so I could get rid of it.

Yes, eating too much pizza is a problem and I will regret the calories. But it is a symptom of a MUCH bigger problem: I look to food for comfort. For rest. For relaxation. For validation. For companionship. So as much as I might want to, I could never do that to myself again. Not because of the calories, but because of the lonely place that it takes me. In my heart, I never want to go back to that dark place again.

When I make a food mistake, and I will, I have to move on. I have to forgive myself and let go. But I have made a decision to not use food as a reward anymore. I am not a dog. Food is not my reward.

-Liz