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Guilt (see: Food)

October 18, 2011

Catholic guilt is rough. Jewish guilt is worse. So what happens if you’re the hybrid of a lapsed Catholic and a now-Buddhist-Jew? LOTS of guilt. Of course, I say this with jest, giggles and storytelling as my main objectives, but there is some truth to all of this, mainly that I’m toes to nose full of guilt.

Worst of all, I’m a guilty eater. I’ve spent the past week convincing my boyfriend to help me to eat less, so naturally, thirteen seconds after he walks out the door I’m knuckles deep in Pumpkin Goat Cheese (haven’t tried it yet? Well, consider yourself lucky, it will ruin your life diet). I’ve always been a guilty eater. Not because I’ve struggled with eating disorders or body dysmorphic disorder (although, WebMD seems to disagree with the latter) but because my parents are the healthiest people I’ve ever met (I’ve never met Gwenyth Paltrow, but I’m willing to bet she’s worse, or better. Whatever). I’m not kidding when I say that my father eats broccoli for breakfast out of a cereal bowl. The Pepsi cans in the pantry have been there since 1993. For real.

When I was 12 I discovered the Super Shop on the walk home from Middle School and I am ashamed to say that I once bought a jar of Marshmallow Fluff and kept it in the back of my closet with a plastic spoon to eat at my own convenience. I know this makes me sound like a super fat kid, but I wasn’t. Look, proof:

Stonewashed Leggings...thanks

I didn’t get fat until college. Those photos are in a vault somewhere. And by vault I mean clearly accessible from my Facebook page. Whoops.

ANYway, guilt. I just typed glut by accident and I think it was Freudian Fingers because GLUTTON seems the only possible word right now.

In High School, my group of friends preferred to go out to eat or to stand around someone’s kitchen eating Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches in bulk (not so skinny anymore, are you COW) to smoking weed and funneling beers, at least until we accidentally threw a party that culminated in having to clean tuna wraps off the walls and picking cheese doodles out of the carpet. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I feel bad about eating bad things so I do do it in secret. And I wasn’t very cool in high school. (I still maintain that we had more fun, though). In the words of my “favorite” High School friend/current celebrity, circa 2001: “It’s so nice hanging out with girls who eat!”. Thanks.

I think all I really wanted to say was this: yesterday I was alternating dipping almonds in honey and dipping spoonfuls of goat cheese in garlic dip when my boyfriend came in the kitchen and I literally THREW the cheese into the fridge. Pretty sure  I smelled like a Turkish sewer system, though, so he probably caught on.

 

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. October 19, 2011 11:19 PM

    Hi friend!!!!!
    Almonds and goat cheese! Should be guilt free.
    Eat away, my friend! Enjoy life.
    I would love to see you soon.
    You were adorable in them stonewashed leggins.

  2. October 21, 2011 7:14 PM

    Haha! I love this. And I can totally relate. Actually, right before I read this post, I was busy having a secret goat cheese moment in front of my refrigerator. And while I was reading this post, I snarfed a cheese burger. Tell no one.

  3. Eileen permalink
    November 7, 2011 1:14 PM

    We all know you’re talking about Lea Michele. Search engine optimization: you’re welcome.

  4. Eileen permalink
    November 7, 2011 1:22 PM

    This has to be a separate comment, it’s so serious. THE number one thing I love about you is how much you love life. Sunshine, laughter, art, wine, every single person around you, and yes, food, because it’s literally life-giving. Please don’t ever change that.

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