Don’t do it Jo. Don’t buy it.

But it’s for the kids.

You always say that, but you know you’re going to end up having most of it yourself.

No I won’t. Not this time.

It’s the kind of internal dialogue I used to have every time I passed by the Two Buck Chuck at my local Trader Joe’s.  Well, except for the part that it was for the kids.


But that mental tug of war, though long gone when it comes to the booze aisle, is still alive and well when it comes to my current drug of choice: food.


More precisely, carbs.


I held the four pack of giant chocolate chip muffins in my hand, my intentions seemingly pure; I wanted to treat my kids.


But I knew better.


I should’ve put them down.

I should’ve walked away.


But I didn’t


I took them to the checkout, and I bought them, and I brought them into my house where I knew they wouldn’t last very long.


And sure enough

In the silence of the night

I snuck into the kitchen as my loved ones slept

Grabbed two of those muffins

Locked myself in the bathroom

And perched upon my toilet

I shoved them into my mouth so fast I could barely breathe (let alone taste them)


It’s how I used to drink








Literally wanting to fill myself up so that everything I should have been feeling was buried so far beneath the booze that I wouldn’t be able to find it even if I tried


And while a chocolate chip muffin is not the same as a bottle of cheap Merlot

There are so many similarities


The shame

The need for immediate gratification

The temporary high


I know that when I ate those muffins last night (if you can even call that eating) I was trying to diffuse a crap load of








Man. Those muffins didn’t stand a chance.


That’s what happens when I live life as if I’m in charge and things don’t go my way.

It’s what happens when I look for love and respect and acceptance in all of the wrong places, demand those things from people that are unable to give them, expect others to change because I think they should.


It’s what happens when I’m too busy pointing out the faults in others instead of looking inward and owning what is mine.


I couldn’t undo mowing down those muffins when I woke up today.

I let myself feel gross and guilt-ridden for a few minutes (especially when I saw the crumbs on the bathroom floor).


Then I told the shame to go to hell, went to a meeting, and walked a brisk mile.


And while I’m well aware that chocolate chip muffins at midnight are far less potent then a bottle of wine

I’d like to get to a place in my life where I can enjoy my carbs at the table, in the revealing nature of daylight

where I can eat them, not inhale them

share them with friends (maybe not)

and put them down when I’m full


Because you and I both know that nothing good can come of continuing to eat them on the toilet.


Except for maybe efficiency.












What’s your drug of choice?

(Shut up. We all have one.)



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6 Replies to “Carbs Taste Better on the Crapper”

  1. Food and I have a horrible relationship. Horrible. I control it just as much as it controls me. My “drug” of choice is BBQ chips. I have asked my husband not to bring them into our house because I “love” them so much. He thought he was doing something super nice for me when he bought me little 100 calorie packs of my crack at Costco. The thing about those 100 calorie packs…late at night when everyone is asleep…is that no one tells you to stop after one pack. I eat them until they give me a stomach ache. They make me so happy when I’m eating them and then more depressed than I was before I started eating them afterward. The same goes for donuts. I’ve never met one I don’t like and won’t devour in 2 seconds flat.

  2. I suppose, after years of delving deep and learning to love myself fully, I have eradicated all drugs of choice–except that I can’t go too long (a few days) without some form of vigorous exercise. I also must have my morning reading/writing/contemplation time before everyone is awake or I am “off.”

    That said, my former drugs of choice were alcohol and food (I was bulimic on and off between 14 and 23, only gaining full control of my relationship with food in my mid-thirties). There was a time when eating reasonably seemed SO far away–impossible even.

    I learned that food deprivation is unhealthy for me. I no longer tell myself that certain foods are off-limits or bad. If I eat a treat, I purposely enjoy it. In this manner, I’ve discovered what I enjoy eating, versus what I used to eat as a knee-jerk reaction to any and everything unresolved in my life. When I get unhealthy urges, I am immediately aware that I am either not dealing with something, not being authentic, or simply stressed (in varying degrees) about life or unable to resolved a conflict as immediately as I would prefer.

    It is in this state of not being able to control everything perfectly that I am learning the greatest lessons. It is in these moments when I remind myself to breathe…and to either reach inside to a power great than myself, or outside to my friends (also powers greater than myself).

  3. Thank you for writing this JO. You are NOT alone. I have had an unhealthy relationship with food since I was 5yrs old. I used to wake up at 6am to watch cartoons and pound bologna or american cheese slices before anyone could wake up and catch me……and I wonder why I was chubby all my life. I have no idea why I did it, I just knew it wasnt normal….even at that age.

    My food drug of choice is STILL cheese. I cannot get enough of it. After I had Presley a light went off that I needed to get healthy and when I started working out I realized that a brick of jack cheese was NOT worth the 5:30am workout every morning that I would have been wasting. I had to just stop.

    Of course now that I am expecting #2, that cheese has been talking to me at the grocery store and calling my name. “Its for the baaaaaaaby”. Oy veh! Give me strength!!

    Hang in there Jo and LIKE I SAID. you are not alone woman!

  4. Oh, Jo, you are SO not alone, Sister. I too pray at the alter of St. Carb when my soul is feeling low. Mine comes in a pretty red box. With big yello CHEEZE IT’S writtin on the front. I used to do it late at night when I was washing dishes (dishwasher is on the blink and given our current financial status, will stay that way for a while. Oh well). I could pound almost half a box if it was a bad night. I had to finally stay out of the kitchen at night, while everyone was asleep. Yes, that means leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. And the counters dirty. And the floor unswept. But if I get up early I can get it all done before work, and the Evil Red Box does not call my name because CHEEZE IT’S taste horrible with coffee. Don’t ask me how I know…..

  5. Food doesn’t love you nearly as much as I do. I’d totally answer a call from you in the middle of the night. I could be your … muffin …

  6. Hi,

    I too have had a problem with food. One of my earliest memories as a child was when I was sick and needed to take some medicine that taste really bad. My mom said I could have a piece of fudge if I had it. I think from that point on food became my reward for when things were not good.

    I’ve been thinking about joining OA but so far, have not made it 🙁

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