07.15.11 :: An Affair to Remember (Ne, to Forget)

I have a love affair with food. I always have. One of my earliest memories is being a pre-schooler, at home with my mom, plopped in front of the television watching "Password" and eating Braunschweiger sandwiches on white bread with cold butter. It's little wonder I had to shop in the Husky Boys department for clothes.

Even today I think about food a lot. For those of you without this curse, the closest I can compare it to is your first love. Do you remember? For me, I couldn't get her out of my mind. She was the first thing I thought of in the morning and the last thing I thought of at night. Every moment in between I imagined what it would be like the next time I got to see her or talk to her. I was electric in anticipation of being with her again. The hours leading up to our next date or encounter were agonizing, but when we finally saw each other, there was no place I'd rather have been.

It's the same for me with food. Every event, every activity, just about every thing I do has food attached to it. For me, they go hand-in-hand... part and parcel. Let me explain:

The Movies: I love cinema. Love it. It's a dark room that takes me to another place for two hours. I don't have to think about my job, my to-do list, my obligations.  It's just me, the story... and my own huge tub of buttered popcorn. Always a large. Always with butter flavoring (added twice - once half way full plus salt and once again when it's full). And always with a giant diet cola. Fit people talk about walls and runner's high... Let me tell you, for me, there isn't a feeling higher than having a movie ticket stub in your pocket and a tub of popcorn in your arms. I can feel the exhilaration in my belly now just imagining it.

Packer games: I don't own a cheesehead. I was given a Clay Matthews throwback jersey that I wear occasionally. I don't have a "G" tattoo or a Brett Favre vanity plate. But... I LOVE my Green Bay Packers. I love fall Sundays. Go to church and make plans for where to watch the game. Aaron Rodgers, Clay Matthews... and something special to eat while the game's on.  Ham roll-ups with pickles or Old Dutch Potato Chips with homemade shrimp dip or Caffe Espresso's recipe for Chili Con Queso with lime Tostitos. If the game is on, there's gotta be something yummy to eat.

Golden Hour: I have a busy life. I have multiple jobs. I'm always doing favors for people (that's a-whole-nother post). I have two small kids. I'm always hopping. But after work. After the kids are fed. After the kids are played with. After the kids are bathed and put to bed, that's the golden hour for me. I get to sit down on the floor in the corner of our couch, spool up whatever tv series I'm watching on Netflix or DVD... And eat whatever the bleep I want. Kids are in bed. Kate's in bed and I'm by myself to eat whatever I please. Chips and dip. Deliciously bad popcorn (for which I'm kinda famous). Desserts. You name it... Well, actually, I'D name it and I'd devour it. Too much food too late at night. But some nights I'd find myself hurrying my family along in their schedules JUST so I could have the room to myself to indulge my appetite.

I could go on and on, but you get the picture.

That all has to change. Period. There's no two ways around it. And this is gonna be one of the bigger portions of this mountain I'm climbing that I'll have to get around. I love food... No wait.. I love TO EAT food. I often feel like it's the one thing I get to do for me. My reward for my hard work. I deserve it, dammit. I'm always indulging other people, now I want a half a box of Wheat Thins Stix with a half a stick of butter for myself. But I'm embarrassed by it, so I have to wait until no one else is around. What would Kate think if she knew I was scarfing down butter like that? What would my brother (and best friend), Mitch, think if he knew I was having two Sausage and Cheese Biscuits from McDonalds every morning for 10 straight days? Brother, what you do in the privacy of your own mind or when no one else is watching... That's who you are. You can pretend and fake all you want, but you're only kidding yourself and eventually that catches up to you. And that's where I find myself. Overweight. Unhealthy. Ashamed of who I am.

So...

Dear Food,

It's over. It's not you it's me. I'd like to say, "we can still be friends" but for right now, let's just keep it professional. That would be best for both of us. And who knows, maybe one day we can figure out a way to spend time together.

Sincerely yours,
Scott