Spring Break
PFEFFER: Potato chip blues
The all-too-familiar conflict between the mind and the stomach
by Rachel Pfeffer
Features | 4/24/07
Posted online at 10:59 PM EST on 4/23/07
/ Last updated at 1:41 AM EST on 4/23/07
Something has changed in my life. Something magnificent has happened to my eating habits.
I can eat a meal, and upon finishing, I feel satisfied; my stomach feels perfectly normal. For as long as I can remember, eating large meals has been a bittersweet experience. You see, I suffer from an affliction called "Eat Until You Ache."
I have a severe lack of willpower when it comes to food. As I write this, my hand continues to reach into a bag of Lays Wavy potato chips, despite the fact that I am not hungry and am not entirely fond of potato chips in general. There has always seemed to be a particularly strong disconnect between my brain and my stomach. As of late, however, I've been devising various techniques to keep myself from cleaning my plate and ending up uncomfortably full.
When my stomach feels full, but my brain still tells me I'm hungry, I either have to take matters into my own hands, or make someone else take control. On a recent trip to London, I found myself in quite the curry-covered pickle in an Indian restaurant. My chicken tikka masala was just so irresistible that no matter how full my stomach was getting, I could not stop eating. (Pause in writing to consume two more unwanted potato chips.) Despite consistently repeating, "I don't want to finish this, I don't want to finish this," my fork kept dipping into the homogenized mix of rice, sauce and chicken chunks. Finally, I was forced to ask my boyfriend to pour some of his beer on my plate to keep me from finishing it, (another potato chip), which garnered angry remarks from my dining companions who would have happily finished my food. But my problem was solved: As much as I wanted to keep eating my food, beer-soaked chicken and curry did not exactly look appetizing to me.
Pouring a drink on my food is one of the most effective (another potato chip) ways to keep me from eating without my stomach's consent. Another is the tried and true "crumple-up-a-dirty-napkin-and-mush-it-into-the-food," or the "overturn-an-empty-plate-and-hide-my-food-from-sight" methods. But this last strategy isn't always as effective because beneath the overturned plate remains food that I know is perfectly intact and vulnerable to an unexpected attack from my fork. (My final chip, I promise; I throw the bag across the room. I reach my limit when I notice a greasy trail, resembling that of a slug, smeared by my knuckle on my glasses; I have just reached a new low.)
I can eat a meal, and upon finishing, I feel satisfied; my stomach feels perfectly normal. For as long as I can remember, eating large meals has been a bittersweet experience. You see, I suffer from an affliction called "Eat Until You Ache."
I have a severe lack of willpower when it comes to food. As I write this, my hand continues to reach into a bag of Lays Wavy potato chips, despite the fact that I am not hungry and am not entirely fond of potato chips in general. There has always seemed to be a particularly strong disconnect between my brain and my stomach. As of late, however, I've been devising various techniques to keep myself from cleaning my plate and ending up uncomfortably full.
When my stomach feels full, but my brain still tells me I'm hungry, I either have to take matters into my own hands, or make someone else take control. On a recent trip to London, I found myself in quite the curry-covered pickle in an Indian restaurant. My chicken tikka masala was just so irresistible that no matter how full my stomach was getting, I could not stop eating. (Pause in writing to consume two more unwanted potato chips.) Despite consistently repeating, "I don't want to finish this, I don't want to finish this," my fork kept dipping into the homogenized mix of rice, sauce and chicken chunks. Finally, I was forced to ask my boyfriend to pour some of his beer on my plate to keep me from finishing it, (another potato chip), which garnered angry remarks from my dining companions who would have happily finished my food. But my problem was solved: As much as I wanted to keep eating my food, beer-soaked chicken and curry did not exactly look appetizing to me.
Pouring a drink on my food is one of the most effective (another potato chip) ways to keep me from eating without my stomach's consent. Another is the tried and true "crumple-up-a-dirty-napkin-and-mush-it-into-the-food," or the "overturn-an-empty-plate-and-hide-my-food-from-sight" methods. But this last strategy isn't always as effective because beneath the overturned plate remains food that I know is perfectly intact and vulnerable to an unexpected attack from my fork. (My final chip, I promise; I throw the bag across the room. I reach my limit when I notice a greasy trail, resembling that of a slug, smeared by my knuckle on my glasses; I have just reached a new low.)
Viewing Comments 1 - 2 of 2
Rachel
posted 4/24/07 @ 11:34 AM EST
i'm never offering you popcorn again.
Ben
posted 4/24/07 @ 11:44 AM EST
eat me
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