Cupcakes, Cheetos, and Cookies. OH MY! Are you the type of person who eats when you’re stressed? I am. I eat when I’m stressed, when I’m sad, when I’m happy, and when I’m tired. I believe there’s a food for every mood. I eat for any reason at any time. I eat when I’m watching television, I eat while riding in the car, and I even eat while sitting at the computer. There are enough crumbs in my keyboard to feed a troupe of boy scouts. Every once in a while, I just shake it over the table and announce to the husband, "Dinner’s ready!" I eat too much, too often. Since I was a kid, I’ve had a weight problem. I could never weight for the next meal. I began wearing a girdle to school in kindergarten, and I’ve been on diets for most of my life. I recently began yet another new eating regimen. Forbidden food groups include appetizers and desserts, anything processed or fried, and anything with meat or dairy products in it. I must also avoid all foods seen on TV commercials or restaurant menus. I cannot eat anything prepared by my grandma, Aunt Hildegard, my third cousin twice removed, or any other member of the family. It’s called the Oriental Diet. I can eat all I want from the specified food list (celery, kale, bok choi, and those tiny ears of corn), but I must use only one chopstick. This week, I've failed miserably at sticking to my eating plan. I've had an insatiable appetite for junk food. In addition to a dumpster load of Hostess Twinkies, I’ve devoured roughly eleven cases of raspberry Fig Newtons and eight and a half pounds of extra crunchy Cheetos. I can’t be sneaky about it either. When the husband asks if I’ve eaten all the Cheetos, how can I look innocent when my fingers and teeth are orange? Wouldn’t you think that after stuffing myself with junk food all week I'd be satisfied? I’m not. In fact, the more I eat, the more I crave. If I continue this way, I'll need a front end loader to lift my carcass out of the Lazy Boy. To make matters worse, I don’t get enough exercise. But I really can’t do much that’s physical, because I think I pulled a fat cell. I’m barely able to crawl to the kitchen for six square meals a day. I really need to lose weight. I want to know how it feels to bend over and tie my shoes without cutting off the blood supply above my waist and feeling as if my intestines are being pushed out my ears. Sorry, but to read "the rest of the story," you will need to:
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