Confessions of a Stress Eater

By Laura

Why can’t I have a better vice?! Can’t I be a druggie or put down the bottle.*

I used to smoked. My god it was great. Inhale. Exhale. Play with fire. (When you’re younger things like cancer, tar, black lungs, the smell, and cost don’t really matter. And yes, I had a job. I just didn’t pay attention to where the money went.)

When we decided to have a baby I quit. As the hostess to the little alien(s), I thought they deserved a clean uterus – don’t we all?!

I drank in college, but never to extreme. I mean I have been drunk and will do it all again. It’s a matter of control for me. I like to have it. Drinking makes you rely on others for rides, for memories, for help holding back your hair. I’m no good at that.

So as the blog title suggests my issue is with food. I love it – a little too much. When things get tough, like work killing me, toddler screaming ‘Old Macdonald’ over and over, baby screaming, stinky teenager loafing on the couch, I eat. A lot. A lot a lot.

My husband can eat 2 Oreos and be done with them for a week. Me, I eat a row, get a glass of milk (for the calcium), and start on another row.

I know the fast food joints on my way home from work and know how to hide the evidence so no one sees. I know where the hidden bags of chocolate are in my house because I’m the one that hid them from my husband and 2 year old!

I love food. It comforts me. I brings me joy and less stress (until my pants don’t fit). I love brownies and chocolate and cake and egg rolls and tacos. Gimme gimme and don’t make me share.

So here’s too hoping against hope that the holidays aren’t too chaotic. I’m afraid there won’t be any cookies left in my zip code.

*please please please realize this is a tongue-in-cheek statement. If you have a problem or know someone who does, reach out, get help, get clean. Think if all the things you can blog about. 😕

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