A Small McProblem

This is an embarrassing tale. They say the first step in recovering from an addiction is to admit that you have one.
My name is Jamie and I am a Mc-aholic.

I am addicted to McDonald's. It's true. My addiction has been under control for a few years now but every once in awhile I slip up. I have a little bit. It silences the voices in my head asking for it. But then I drown in guilt.

If you knew me in my youth (ah...youth) you would know that I didn't grow up in an organic-vegetable, dinner around the table kind of home. We ate rice and beans and meat. And takeout. Lots of takeout which is normal in NYC, the land of Chinese take-out and pizza shops. Throw in a low-income neighborhood (you know, before Inwood was getting blurbs in New York magazine and yoga studios) with fast-food restaurants and not one but two McDonald's and you become a member of childhood obesity before people are even talking about childhood obesity.

Then there is the summer of my 13^th year. I had my first summer job with childhood friends and we spent every, yes, every evening dining away at McDonald's. Instead of going out and drinking and smoking weed my friends and I found our kicks seeing who could eat the most chicken nuggets in a 20 nugget container. I kid you not. Oh...here is a picture of me from that year at school:

Anyway, in college I realized that this stuff is evil and guys won't make out with you if you're a beast (at least in my personal experience) and I actually did enjoy the feeling of a good workout so I slowly lost 40 pounds. I still have really poor habits when eating. Fresh veggies just don't exist. Not that I don't like them, I just don't make them. And weight is a constant battle.

But I am an addict. Sometimes I just need some special sauce. Or a fry. And I do it in secret. Or I did before this post. I would wait until Mark was not home and eat my snack. Possibly even throw the paper out in a separate garbage can instead of our kitchen. Yes, I know this screams SICKNESS. Actually while reading Kathy Griffin's book she describes doing the same thing and it made me feel better.

Well I write this post because I've been scared straight. Well...maybe straighter. A few weeks ago Mark was out all day and I had had a great 'eating' day. No snacks, regular meals, a really good workout. But then here it was, dinner time, nothing at home and so I went in and bought some food. I ate it at home and within seconds I was sick as a dog. I felt lethargic. I felt my heart slowing. I was sweaty. I was so mad and disgusted at myself that I somehow managed to get off the couch and went back to the gym.
I went back at 9pm because I was so pissed that I had eaten so much fat and calories. Of course it was a mediocre cardio session as my body was riddled with McPoison. I would say that the only good that comes out of that experience was that I was so aware of my body's reaction that I'll run the other way when the golden light beckons me.