Rear View Mirror

Having spent the larger part of my life suffering from a decidedly dysfunctional relationship with food (not so different than many other Americans), things are finally looking up. In just one calendar year I have managed to drop 40 pounds and regain a whole lot of control over my life, my body and my future. I'm ready to share how I transformed from a routine where food was my comfort, my reward at the end of a long day, my favorite kind of celebration and my own personal therapist, to a world where I am the one delivering my happiness and passion to my dinner plate. The more I cook, the more I develop a close and intimate relationship with my food, the happier I become. It isn't that food and I were so bad for each other--we just didn't know each other on a deeper level.

Shall we start at the beginning?

I am a proud child of a blue-collar family. Growing up, my father was an auto mechanic and my mother worked in bakery. Four children, two busy adults, and well, our life was like most typical Americans. Some of my best memories from childhood involve junk food: Top Ramen before walking to afternoon kindergarten with my dad, piles of candy and soda leading to junk food comas with my brother, my mom fulfilling all of our immediate dreams with just one drive around a fast food joint, and, of course, the classic memory of eating extraordinary amounts of pizza and candy at sleepovers with my girlfriends. Food was great! It was a defining component in all good times. Every holiday and every milestone in my life was associated with a mouth-watering plate of deliciousness!

It wasn't until later on, when I entered my preteen years, that food and I really started to have a love-hate relationship. I, like many other young women, became aware of the social stigma associated with eating junk food and overeating in general (no matter how healthy the food). As I was slightly overweight (always teetering at the high end of "healthy" as a child), I was becoming more and more self-conscious about my once-proud moments of being able to consume more than half of a large delivery pizza or being able to chug more strawberry soda than my big brother. That's how the downward spiral into self-destruction via food began. I didn't stop loving food, I just started to hide my love for food.

Long story short? This went on for years. These habits crept into adulthood. Eventually, I found myself at age 23 and 40 pounds overweight, right on the bottom end of the obese range for my height. I couldn't say no to delicious foods in private. As my self-confidence increased, I even began to binge in front of others. I was, to put it bluntly, a food addict. I ate when I was happy. I ate when I was sad. I ate when I was stressed. I ate when I was relaxed. I just loved eating.

The bright side of this story is that I have found ways to take the control back. Food no longer has the stranglehold on me that it once did. Although I face a continuous sequence of situations in which I have to say no to delicious, mouthwatering, tempting food, it's getting easier. Drug addicts and alcoholics can remove themselves from exposure to their drink or drug of choice. Us food addicts? Well, there's no place to hide! The others around us (especially mothers and grandmothers!) will never stop tempting us. So, my journey in this struggle is what I'm bringing to the table to share.


I'm starting this blog because I am not alone in my struggles and because I feel there's a chance that at least one person out there could benefit from hearing what has worked for me. So many Americans like myself have an unhealthy relationship with food. Its temptations are out of their control; its complexity is beyond their understanding; its comfort is beyond most other soothing. This is America, and ladies and gentlemen, we are not alone. So, here I am, putting myself out there for all the world to read. Let's conquer this battle together start living and longer, happier and more fulfilling lives!