It happens more often than I would care to admit.
I get pissed off, irritated, angry. Sometimes, I’m just plain nervous or bored.
When that kind of thing happens, I eat…and eat…and eat. It seems that unless I am completed gorged I cannot stop. It’s not the “good” stuff either. Nope. It’s sandwiches and cookies and brownies and all sorts of stuff thats:
- easy to make
- easy to eat
- fast and fattening
That’s the stuff that puts me in a coma where I don’t have to feel what I’m feeling and where I don’t have to deal with what I don’t want to deal with.
The Feeling of Powerlessness to the Nth Degree
Usually this insatiable appetite comes on when I feel absolutely powerless and no matter how much I try to exert some power – my personal power, as the self help blogs would put it – I fail miserably. Here is an example:
Recently, my mother-in-law has been transitioned into one of those “independent living” places for old people who really can’t live independently anymore. As a result, all the detritus and general shit from decades of accumulation have been divided up among the children of said mother-in-law over the past few months. Never mind that most of this stuff has no practical use whatsoever.
Well, it turns out that my lovely wife wants this “corner” hutch thing and an antique-ish sewing machine the size of a cabinet. Never mind that it won’t go with anything we own. Never mind that it will never be dusted or cleaned. Never mind that, at least the hutch, will be a display case for decades old “china” that her mother got as a wedding gift or maybe bought at the 1940′s equivalent of Target. The sewing machine will just sit. I don’t sew. My wife doesn’t sew. It has been literally sitting at her mother’s for well over 30 years doing n-o-t-h-i-n-g.
No matter how much I objected to this crap being bought into our house (ostensibly, my house, too) my objections were overruled. ”Fuck you, Ken. This is my mother’s stuff, my grandmother’s stuff and I want it even though I will never use it or maintain it.”
Isn’t that lovely?
So I Eat
So I went and fixed myself a sandwich followed by some horrible pudding pre-made by Jello® followed by another sandwich and some juice and now I’m about to eat a chocolate covered strawberry I picked up at the Maryland BBQ Bash in Bel Air, MD last Friday. As much as my conscious mind is saying “Stop”, the little devil on my left shoulder is saying” Go ahead. You’ll feel better. Fuck everyone. Who cares if you look like a fat pig aho can’t fit into an airline seat or go to the movies? Eat. Eat.”
I gave up booze a long time ago or I’d be pounding ‘em back. The worst part of this is that there was really no discussion. She said she was bringing them into the house (from Michigan, no less) and even though I objected strenuously, it didn’t matter. Great marriage, huh? Ripe for marriage counselors, how-to sites on building relationships, etc. etc.
It’s a bitch.
