A big (partial) breakup.

Dearest, dearest Food,

It's not you, it's me. 

That's not true, because actually it's you, too. It's both of us.

Let me explain.

I need you, you see. Like, literally. Without you, I'll die. No! Seriously! I'm not being dramatic. I'd literally die without you.

Oh yum! Salad and water!

But there's a catch. As we all are, you're nuanced. You come in many shades, flavors, and moods. And levels of nutrition.

You're the crisp spinach salad, loaded with veggies and olives and feta, dressed in olive oil and lemon juice.

You're the warm, fragrant, home-made yeast roll, served to me by my mother on Christmas day.

You're the slice of Lane Cake, a delightful confection that teases the palate with hints of bourbon and nostalgia.

You're the roasted vegetables. The ham. The sweet potato casserole.

You're the PIZZA ALL THE PIZZA.

You're a perfect clementine.

You're a chewy, sugary concoction of high fructose corn syrup and red #5.

You're the tasty baked chicken and the deep fried tenders. The baked sweet potato and the sweet potato fries. The spinach salad and the spinach artichoke dip.

You're the yin and the yang.

Therein lies the problem. I do need you, but only parts of you. I only need the spinach and the oatmeal and the eggs and the veggies and fruit.

A minuscule sampling of all that is both good and bad in my life.

Yet, I want all of you. All you have to give. The cake. The cookies. The treats. The dubious chemical concoctions and the sugary delights. The chips and queso, the cured meats and breads. But it is those very things that threaten me. That do me harm. That are bringing back my muffin top.

What's a girl to do? How can I resolve this conflict, the inner turmoil you put me through? You can be so good for me, and then so bad. Why do you treat me this way? How has our relationship come to this?

I think it's time we take a bit of a break on this relationship, scale things back a bit. It's gotten too serious too quickly. I'm in too deep. 

I... I think we should just be friends.

There. I said it.

I know, I know, I hate that it's come to this, too... but listen: it's not like I'll never be around. It's not like I'll never have a cookie or a delightful snack. We all know my will is weak. How can I truly resist your sweet side forever? I cannot, nor do I want to. There will be dalliances. Sensual moments. Clandestine feastings. However, for the most part, I must be strong. I must resist your siren song. I must learn to content myself with the salads, the roasted veggies, the baked chickens, and fruits and nuts and oatmeal.

My baby's birth weight and my thighs depend on it.

So, yes, it's you. And it's me. You merely call and I drop everything to come running. (I mean, not actual running. LOL. Let's be real.) 

No more.

Except special occasions (hello, it's nearly the New Year), and except when nothing else can be found, and except when I feel like I've been careful long enough and deserve to relax, and except when I just don't care too much and just really want those chips and queso... except for those times, it's goodbye.

Goodbye, Sweets and Treats. Goodbye, Processed Foods. I will miss you. I will long for you. But I know you are no good to me.

Farewell, my beloved Junk Food. You will always be on my mind, but hopefully not my thighs and arms.
xo