The reason I call it an affair is because a) there is a sense of secrecy around it, b) it's never boring and c) it's bad but still so damn good.
Secrecy - I need to come out. I am in love with food. Food is so much more to me than a mean to an end. I remember this was not always the case. My mom used to feed me Kiddi Pharmeton (or something similar) to boost my appetite. All in vain. I was a horrible child.
Sometime in college, I embraced the freedom of choice by indulging in all that I couldn't at home (most girls then were experimenting with affairs of the more obvious kind). I slept with cookies and chocolates and chips and other junk.
I reveled in the fact that my body did not gain weight according to my diet (oh, how wrong I was!). For the fear of being called a soulless glutton, I shrouded my new-found lover in secrecy. I met with him surreptitiously and spent hours with a satisfied smile plastered over my face. Friends must have wondered about my euphoria.
But as is the case with all affairs, mine too ended in deceit and pain. All through my glorious days, I was cautiously oblivious to the fact that I was in fact logging on kilos. My reasoning was that if my lover did not care why should I. I even fooled myself into believing it was the right thing for me to do. Become fat. And by fat I mean morbidly fat - so close to obesity that I actually let go - being fat is a small price to pay for the pleasure of tasting lard, right?
I don't know what kicked me back into high gear (or rather, who) but I started gymming like a frantic possessed woman. I became one of those calorie-counting freaks you see on health forums. Yes. I visited those forums.
For a good 5 months, my affair turned into genuine affection and perhaps even love. My relationship turned into one of mutual care and understanding. I almost got married. I've tried to remain committed but it hasn't been easy. University beckoned me once again, this time with the added lure of fries and cheesy burritos. I had another affair on the sly, but managed to keep both my love and lover happy. My love just needs occasional meetings with the gym and remains pleased. My lover, on the other hand, required weekly feedings to remain satiated. Nevertheless, I got through this tumultuous phase relatively scathe-free. Or so I thought.
Every affair leaves a mark. This second one left me with an addiction to small quantities of sugar. I need my fix. Everyday. I guess its a reasonable addiction, considering half the world is addicted to either nicotine or caffeine.
I have now come to terms with living two lives, and with less secrecy. It's not fun anymore.
