Confessions of a Food Addict
Glo's writer opens up about her out-of-control eating habits and how she finally learned to deal with her addiction
I left the hospital and slowly progressed from broken to healing. I'd place a mound of chocolate chips on the table. If I could get a chip from the table to mouth using my weak, injured hand, I could eat it. At first, I had no mastery of movement; gradually, I could aim slightly, and bear the weight of one chip. By the end, I was gobbling up fistfuls of chocolate. If I needed food as a reward, so be it.
I married. At night I'd wake my husband. "Don't you hear it?" I'd whisper.
"What?" he'd ask.
"The pan of brownies. Calling from the kitchen," I'd say, only half-joking.
During our eight years of marriage, we traveled extensively. Laboriously, I climbed to the top of the Temple of Kukulkan in Chichen Itza. I felt great.
We returned home and developed our photos. I asked my husband, "Who's this atop the Mayan pyramid?"
"You," he answered.
I was shocked. I wasn't just fat, I was obese.
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