Appetite for destruction

It's National Eating Disorder Awareness Week.

In honor of such an occasion and in the spirit of awareness, I thought I would make you aware of mine.

My name is Amy Caroline Exum, and I have a food addiction.

Before you roll your eyes and chuckle dismissively, just hear me out.

I know, when you first think of an eating disorder, your mind leaps right to anorexia or bulimia. And yes, those are very serious and life-threatening eating disorders. But, what if you have it in reverse. I tried the whole 'not eating' for about a day and I became so light-headed and disoriented, I had to make up for it by eating enough for a football team. I am not a fan of throwing up, so that was out of the question. So, when I binge eat, I just hang on to it. I've been doing this for as long as I can remember. I've always had what people used to refer to as a 'healthy appetite'. Meaning, I can pack away a serious amount of feed. I remember when I was maybe 6 or 7, my mom and I attended a function at the local church where they were serving hoagies. While my smaller friend had a much daintier portion. ''You're eating a whole hoagie!'' she marvelled, loudly so that other kids wandering around could hear. Not that that had been her intention, but it did pique the interest of some passer bys. They all gathered around as if I were a circus freak attraction. Humiliation was making it hard to swallow or maybe it was because I was used to taking ravenously large bites like a hungry giant. Either way, I had to cram my enormous hoagie to an audience of slack-jawed kids who didn't eat like they were storing for a long period of hibernation. This was the first time it might have dawned on me my eating habits were not normal or healthy. My mom would fret over how much weight I had gained, yet still make me French toast when I wanted. But, it was that very hoagie incident that made me start hiding just how much I ate.

I became a pro at deceptive eating. As a young child, I would strike in the cover of night. Raiding the fridge and cupboards for whatever could be quickly shoved in my greedy mouth. I worked hard on planning my attacks. I would leave stuff where I would easily be able to access it later. Of course, there was always the issue of food being missing and when my parents would come to me for questioning, I would always deny any knowledge of what happened to half that apple pie, or the entire box of cookies, or the bag of chips, etc. How could they prove it. The evidence was in my belly. Of course, the only other suspect was my two year old brother, and he could barely hold a spoon on his own, much less steal food, leaving no mess or crumbs. I was without conviction, but I wasn't without shame.

And that is why I am currently obese. I don't want to be obese. I want to want to be thin more than I want to satisfy the scream of insatiable addiction. And it is officially recognized as an addiction. Studies have shown, for some, the reward and pleasure centers in the brain, that are usually activated by addictive drugs, like cocaine, alcohol and heroin, can also be triggered by food. Food eases my stress. Food eases my depression. Food gives me comfort. Or so the addiction would have me believe. And it's not the good for you foods that cause this magical pleasure center reaction in the brain. No, it's the demon food. The sugars and the fats and the salts and the starches. It's not that I don't enjoy fruit and veggies. I do! Why, just the other night, I had a salad, and boy was it yummy! But, they don't satisfy the beast inside. Not even close. I had a psychiatrist recently tell me, who I'd gone to for help to overcome the addiction, I was just making excuses and needed to simply make healthier choices when eating. Like it's just that fucking easy. Oh right, because I wasn't already aware of that myself. You wouldn't tell an alcoholic to just stop drinking. ''Hey, you, heroin addict. Just stop. Quit it. Be done.'' Needles to say, I never saw her again.

Food gives me a thrill I get from nothing else. That's not entirely true. When I've given up food, and been successful in actually losing weight and maintained a healthy lifestyle, I've merely replaced it with another addiction. Alcohol, drugs, shopping, sex. I never get addicted to anything helpful. And my behaivor becomes more erratic. My moods swings out of control. Staying clean is always just so much work, because I'm constantly battling. I always end up going back. Every time it's worse. And harder to pull away.

When I binge, I go into, what I can only describe as a trance like state. I'm just cramming the food in as fast as I can chew and swallow and get my mouth open wide enough for the next bite. And while it's happening is great. The taste, the reassurance I am no longer depriving myself of what I want. Such a fucking relief. And then, the shame and embarrassment. But, that's OK, because you can always just eat more and make those feelings go away.

Food has destroyed me. I am so big now, I have trouble walking because my body is starting to buckle under the pressure. I am ridiculed every time I leave my house. And I get it. I am quite a site. I'm constantly in people's way. They look at me with disgust. To them, I'm a fat slob who doesn't take care of herself. And they would be right. It's the same when you see a drunk passed out in the gutter. Because it's the same. It's someone who has completely lost control of their lives. If you can even call it having a life. My biggest fear is that I will become one of those people you have to remove from their house with a crane. It's my biggest fear and yet I don't know how to keep from hurtling toward it.

I'm not proud of what I've become. And this isn't about whether or not I have a positive body image. If you're not stick thin and you have some junk in the trunk, be proud of that. Sure, why not. People come in all shapes and sizes, but when you start crossing over from chubby to no normal set of scales can weigh you, there is a problem. The first step is admitting that.

I've been to the doctor, in hopes of getting some kind of medical assistance. I've been put on some kind of weight loss tablets and we're going to see how that goes for three months. I'm going to make myself out a diet plan and try to stick with it. The real kick in the teeth, was he'd done loads of blood work. All normal. Cholesterol is fine. Thyroid functioning normally as are my kidneys, and I am not diabetic. Good news, but I explained to the doctor, I almost wanted something to be wrong. A sense of urgency. Because if I don't have a hard and fast reason, I'm afraid I'll never be able to do it. Am I past the point of no return? Just how far do I have to go before I've pushed my body too far? I don't want to know.

I'm not telling you this so you will feel sorry for me. This is my cross to bear. I just wanted you to hear my side of the story.