I believe I have discovered a new addiction,and I feel it's important to bring it out into the public eye, raise funds, and discover a cure. The source of the problem? Chips.
For me, the word chip has become a "bad word" in the traditional sense, with all the negative connotations to which we are accustomed when combined with words of four letters. The simple chip represents all that is wrong with our society today, in fact.
I realize that a chip looks innocent enough, hiding inside a crackling bag with pictures of smiling people or fancy lettering, leading us by the nose and taste buds to the promised land. But it is a false promise, built on the shifting ground of fat cells and calories, all of which will come and live in your body forever.
Did you know that once a fat cell has formed, you will never get rid of it? It can deflate, but it will be there 30 years from now, waiting to puff out at the merest whiff of a chip passing your table on someone else's plate. Liposuction is the only cure, and that will only work if you never eat another piece of the manna. The moment you falter and surrender to your weakness, that fat cell comes roaring back, waylaying your thighs on the way to the beach.
Chips are a mean master, too. They insist on being eaten with a siren call that is nearly impossible to resist. They beckon you from your cupboard (or the grocery store - they are very loud, and I don't know about you, but they have me on speed dial, obviously,) lonely and waiting, promising nirvana, if only you will give in.
It's a false promise. Chips lie. It's a fact. The only pot of gold you are going to find at the end of that rainbow is the one you will fork over to the diet mavens who are promising to save you from yourself.
No, there is only one cure for the chip addiction to which I currently find myself enslaved. I have to take responsibility for myself and quit eating them. That's right, I need to go cold turkey. I have to stop believing the false promises, and look at the facts without being swayed by the satisfaction to my taste buds. Because what satisfies the taste buds is not nearly so enticing on the hips.
I am not merely dependent on chips. No, I have a full fledged addiction, one which has driven me to do things I would never have imagined from myself before this happened.
Like most addictions, it started innocently enough. Awhile back, I was actually so slender, it was a struggle to keep the pounds on. I was going through a very difficult time in my life, and when I am under stress, I generally lose all desire to eat. I was going through a divorce, and let me just share with you, that is the best diet you will ever find, although the source is probably not worth the outcome. Although that might depend on who you're married to, but that is your judgment call.
When I fell under a certain weight, I realized that I simply had to put on some pounds, however I could do it. That was when I discovered eating in bed.
I had never, in my whole life, been a bed eater. I hate sleeping on crumbs, and it just doesn't seem like a good idea. I should have gone with that, because I was right.
Eating in bed, while reading a good book, is heaven on earth. There is nothing like it, I promise you. The satisfaction of a salty, crunchy snack while consuming equally satisfying literature is the high point of my life, irreplaceable.
Sounds pretty innocent, right? I started with snack mix, something with caloric content, to put the pounds back on, and it worked. Then I realized that something with a few more calories would probably be even better, and again, I was correct. (I love to be right.) I definitely put on the pounds, slowly but surely building to my desired weight. And then past my desired weight, right into new pants territory, at which point, I became alarmed.
But of course, as every veteran dieter knows, by then, it was too late. I was already addicted, and there was no going back. It was no longer a choice, it was a compulsion, full blown and out of my control.
Now, I go to bed every night, resolved to awaken snack free, and a few ounces closer to my goal of ten pounds gone.
And every morning, I awaken, disgusted with myself and miserable, because I have once again fallen. It's demoralizing. It's frustrating. It's an addiction.
I will do anything for my chip fix, it seems. I lay down, satiated, requiring nothing more for the day, but within moments, I am ravenously in need of sustenance. I gradually move from wishful to frantic, ready to do anything to satisfy my urges. I am not sure why Eve fell for the apple, but if Satan showed up with chips, I'd be in serious trouble.
I have tried all kinds of strategies to stop myself. I have moved the chip supply from my bedside table to the dresser, thinking that having to get up out of my bed will slow me down. I can tell you that it takes exactly 3.2 seconds to accomplish that task.
I have tried leaving the chips in the kitchen, thinking that the risk of running into one of my offspring may discourage me. I have been known to grab it out of their hands on the way to their mouths, if it is the final chip in my bag which they are stealing out from under my need.
[Not to digress here, but today we are celebrating the day one of said offspring decided to grace the world with his presence, for which I am profoundly thankful. Life without my eldest child would be a lot less argumentative, it's true, but also a lot less interesting.]
I have tried measuring out a serving for myself, thinking that total denial is not working, but perhaps moderation is the place to begin. Nope. I just keep getting additional servings, because seriously, I ask you, who eats only eight chips at a time? Whoever came up with those serving sizes was clearly someone with an eating disorder.
I have tried to fool myself with baby carrots, thinking the satisfying crunch will trick my brain into thinking I've had a chip. No dice. My brain is smarter than that, and will not be fooled by an inferior impostor.
I have promised myself rewards for not eating a snack, and even managed to fall asleep without indulging my need. I have also been known to wake up in a sweat in the middle of the night (yes, I am 48, but they are not night sweats from menopause, I promise you,) and run to the kitchen to satisfy the urges that are then keeping me awake. I cannot fall back to sleep with the din of desire beating a message into my brain. I simply must have a chip, or I will never find peace again.
I have even, in desperation, tried not buying them, because surely they cannot call me from the grocery store a mile away. Wrong. They have my super secret cell phone number that I give out only to those who are most important to me, and they call me from the store shelf, crying and begging me to come and take them home with me.
As it turns out, I have overestimated my own abilities to control my baser urges. It is disheartening to realize that something so small and insignificant can rule my world. If that's not addiction, I don't know what is.
We are all victims of the chip manufacturers, and I think the time has come to unite and file a class action against them for selling a product that is inherently defective, resulting in addiction and subsequent weight gain over which its victim has no control. My son, Mr. Intellect, informed me the other night that Doritos, for example, actually are made to address all the various taste buds in your mouth, thus satisfying all your culinary urges at once.
What are we to do, I ask you, when the chips are designed to be irresistible? I say we hold the manufactures accountable for our inability to live without their chips, and make them pay for programs to help us deal with our addiction. We could slip it into the newly designed health care program being dreamed up by our government representatives, who, by the looks of things, share the same addiction for instant gratification without consequences that the rest of us do.
The next time you see someone who clearly does not need the additional caloric intake shoving a chip in their mouth, don't look down on them. They may be in the throws of an addiction, and it's stronger than they are. Instead, feel sorry for them, and don't get between them and the grocery store.
