An Addict in the kitchen

It was the final week of my 60 day juice cleanse; I was exhausted and craving junk food. My brain knew by the end of the week I would be eating solid food and gluttonous nightmares began infesting my sleep. I dreamt of raiding candy dispensers at the local market. Dumping neon colored, sugar-coated, gummy bits into my mouth, head tilted back, eyes kissing fluorescent lights as I choked on candy. I was spooked by dreams of pastry possession and drowning under tides of Thanksgiving gravy. I became afraid to sleep at night. I began to sleep with a light on. It didn’t help.
I got the idea for a juice cleanse after watching a movie where this three hundred pound guy lost hundreds of pounds juicing fruits and vegetables for 60 days. I became more and more comfortable with the idea as I thought about it. Like the man in the film I hoped to reset my eating habits and lose weight at the same time. I began to question what I was eating and how it affected my mood. Generally speaking I mostly consumed carbs and would often drift into a coma like stasis after each meal.
During my 60 day campaign I reflected on my habit. I realized that eating is something I often do uncontrollably and without the sensation of hunger being present. Like a flesh-eating fiend from a George Romero flick I often wandered the kitchen in search of food. Not hunger but an urge. It was a frightening realization. I began to equate this idea to that of someone dealing with addiction.
While I juiced I made sure to use a recipe that would give my body all the nutrients I needed so that I would not starve. Starvation was not appealing to me. I wanted to be able to appreciate food. During the 60 days I noticed I was hardly ever hungry. However I quite often fought with the craving of certain foods, Chick-fil-a’s meal number 4, pizza, Chinese food, mom’s homemade tacos. But there was never any real hunger. The words, “I’m starving,” never crossed my lips.
The first 30 days went by fast as I noticed the weight vanish. Success bred confidence and I increased my cardio to twice a day. Then I lost my job but I didn’t let the stress derail my movement. I was near the finish line. Only one more week left and I was down to 157 pounds. Within two pounds of reaching my goal. Then the nightmares came. Like a possessed child in need of an exorcism I was being haunted by junk food. Would I over throw the food junkie that pressed cupcakes against my face, like a fat stripper pressing her gut up against me? The last night of my fast was a long one; my mind went back and forth contemplating all the irresponsible food I would indulge in. I wanted to be a food junkie again and as I sat there I wondered if I could look myself in the mirror if I ordered Dominos but didn’t eat it till after midnight?