When it comes to food, I am the first in line. I love it. Can't get enough of it. Even when I'm stuffed full I will keep on eating, and start eyeing off any unfinished plates around me. I have 2 hollow legs and the rest, though unfortunately I am definitely not one of those girls that makes other people think "Wow, where does she put it all?". I put it...on.
I mean food is sooooooooo good! My mother never had to worry about me getting an eating disorder. The longest I've starved myself is 5 minutes - the amount of time it takes to walk to Lawson's (convenience store) from my house. Even then I'm still chewing on whatever it was I was grabbed from the kitched on my way out. When I'm not eating, I miss the action of eating. When I see great food, I must eat it at all costs (and calories). Hmmm - rereading that maybe I do have some kind of an eating problem...
In fact, growing up my mother always knew any illness was serious when I lost my appetite. Thinking about it, I can only recall losing my will-to-eat twice in 27 years - and both times I was so sick I ended up in hospital (It serves as a good indicator. A few months back my flatmates were worried about my asthma and I was able to say "If I stop eating, call the amublance.") As long as I've got my appetite, I've got my health- If I can't eat, what's the point in going on??
As well as a passion for feasting, I have this obsession with what is in food. I constantly read labels looking at fat and sugar content, ratio of carbs to proteins, potassium and salt levels...I could go on. You tell me a fruit or veg and I can name exactly what vitamins it contains, what you should eat it with so that said vitamins can be more easily absorbed by your body, and what diseases it helps prevents....oh you get the picture.
Same with alcohol - which drinks are the least damaging, have the lowest calories...Why else do you think I prefer to do shots?
I was wondering where this perculiar habit stemmed from and I am pretty sure it comes from My Days As A Diabetic - read Days, it was a major misdiagnosis that left a bad taste in my mouth until the 5 year time frame for my relapse to occur passed without incident, though I can't deny it hasn't imprinted my life - I don't think I have knowingly used extra salt, sugar or margarine for 8 years now.
With this all said, I'm starving. Where's my bloody Macca's voucher??