You can know anything. It's all there. You just have to find it.

-Neil Gaiman


Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Hungry Hungry Hippo

It's not even close to noon but I've already eaten my entire lunch. And I'm still hungry. Granted, my lunch was a avocado, tomato, spinach and carrot sandwich and a banana, but lately I've been trying to eat better, which for me really means EAT LESS. I've been training and trying to get ready for the triathlon and my problem usually lies in my justification that because I ran for an hour or went swimming that means I can get away with eating a few cookies and that Nestle ice cream bar. And a glass of wine. I think a lot of people do this. My problem is not the workouts; it's the diet.

My eating habits, according to the average American diet (and what I see a lot of my coworkers eating on a daily basis) are actually quite stellar. 85% of the time I eat really healthy. I just eat a lot. And I do it really fast. I think I could actually win a contest, or at least I would place higher in an eating competition than I would in a triathlon.

The most I've ever eaten in one sitting was 2 foot-long turkey subs from Subway. This was in college, and I remember it because two gentlemen approached me after I completed my task (I had been playing soccer all day with friends) and said with clear admiration, "Wow, I've never seen anyone do that before. And you're a girl!" They were clearly flabbergasted. I think I was able to do this because I could eat so quickly, and I smiled and said, "Really? Thank you."

Twenty minutes later, when the loaf of bread I had eaten had expanded, I was lying on my dorm room floor taking shallow breaths because my stomach had distended so much it was squeezing my lungs closed. I don't know if there is a medical term for it but I call it Eating Induced Asthma. The last time I had an attack was Thanksgiving.

So now I'm getting better though I still have my bouts of gluttony. But I think it's genetic. Growing up, my sister's nickname was Tapeworm. Whenever the three of us were being particularly piggy at the dinner table my dad would ask us if we wanted to strap on a feedbag instead.

We never answered him; we were too busy inhaling our food.

Looks like my dad was on to something...

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