When women are depressed, they eat or go shopping. Men invade another country. It’s a whole different way of thinking.
I eat my problems.
I never had this problem when I was younger, or maybe I didn’t notice, but as I get older I can clearly ‘see’ that I do this.
Okay, what do I mean by this you may, or may not, ask?
I eat when I’m depressed. I swallow my words too. I stuff down my emotions. I ingest the pain I’m in and hold it all inside and then I have a sundae. It then appears on my hips. Voila! Just like magic; but not.
I never knew this about myself because it never showed up on the outside until lately.
So, is the answer to go to the gym more or is it to tell everyone to fuck off? Make myself happy instead of making myself ice cream? Take a break from making everyone else feel good and regurgitate all this negativity; shed the burdens; lose the weight of everyone else and have a salad instead?
Definitely time for a change.
Gluttony is an emotional escape, a sign something is eating us.
Peter De Vries