My Relationship With Food

bills restaurant Plymouth pancakes

If you think I’m that type of girl that eats bean salads and leaves for breakfast, lunch and dinner, then I’m sorry, but you’d be very much disappointed.

I’d much rather be coming home to fish fingers, beans and chips on a Monday evening than actually thinking about cooking anything remotely healthy. Winning at life. But is it more than that?

Is it more than just being too lazy to cook anything? Well, yes it is.

My relationship with food has two tiers. The first tier is that I am fussy. I am that girl that goes to Nando’s, asks for completely plain chicken and then douses it in ketchup. Sorry not sorry.

Margherita pizza only. I don’t do anything drenched in sauces or gravy. KFC, or Chinese? Never had it.

I’m scared. I’m scared of trying new food. Scared of something making me ill, and it’s the mental barrier that I have before trying any food that puts me off trying it entirely. As I’ve got older I have forced myself to try new things. I mean, there’s only so much I can deal with of my repertoire of turkey burgers and omelettes. I do make a mean omelette though. Only ham and cheese tho, OBV.

I joke, but my entire office ask me what I have for tea every night like LOL. Same as last Tuesday Donna.

But then there’s another level to my relationship with food. It’s more sinister and well, it dictates me.

You see, being teetotal is not the only thing that pancreatitis left me with. I have to be really careful what I eat. But I also don’t know when to stop or learn.

So yes, that is a dominos I have every month, another sickeningly sweet hot chocolate, and oh yes another cake pit stop on the weekend. I am my own worst enemy.

But no one ever sees what goes on behind closed doors, beyond the over exposed Insta snap of my cold hot chocolate.

It was only 2 weeks ago that a weekend of bad eating left me for a week with agonising stomach pains, constant nausea, having to sleep with a hot water bottle every night and having no appetite. It was the worst flare up that I have had for a while, but these are common place to me.

I vowed I learned my lesson this time. I’d had enough of carrying anti sickness tablets around and chewing on glace ginger (10/10 nausea cure btw). But here I am already consuming a dominos pizza, chocolate Yule log and mince pie in the same day.

I’m constantly playing with the devil and I know it. How many biscuits is too many? When am I next going to be pushed over the edge? That greedy, piggy voice in my head is always there saying ‘go on, just one more’, then they back track ‘JUST FINISH THE WHOLE PACKET’. I hate inner me.

Greasy food, sugar laden food and basically anything processed or fatty is a 100% no for me. The pancreas is closely linked with how you digest food, and pancreas inflammation can be caused by all of the above.

I’ve been clear of pancreatitis for a fair few years now. But my pancreas is still scarred, it’s there dormant in the background, scared of my every move.

LOL. I nearly had to ring 999 for eating a packet of haribo earlier this year. I couldn’t walk I was in so much pain, I was sick by a car showroom and I couldn’t eat for a couple days. Wasn’t the first time though, never is. I’ve also had to run out of M&S to be sick by a bin once because of Mr Candy King.

My issue is that I feel like food is my only vice in life. I exercise a lot, I can’t drink, so why should I also be denied of my one true love in life? It’s food.

I feel like it’s a sick joke when I can’t even handle a slice of cake with friends. That’s why I come back running every time, it’s a vicious circle.

It’s something I’ve very much kept behind closed doors before. It’s like a dead weight I carry around with me everywhere. It could be worse, a lot worse. I know it could. When temptation is always around you, it’s always going to be hard.

For 2018 I 100% vow to get back onto the wagon. There’s no IFS or BUTS this time.

Start following the basic diet I know my pancreas yearns from me. I need to start behaving. Everything in moderation and all, so I will be making exceptions here and there. But for my own benefit I think I need one whole basic month to see how well I can feel.

Because truth be told, I can’t remember the last time I felt well. That makes me sad. There’s more to life than a piece of cake and I need to show myself that in 2018.

Here’s to health and happiness in 2018. Reworking old habits and being kind to myself. It’s not you, it’s me.

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