First Chocolate This Year
I go downstairs for something to eat. Down the hall. Enter the kitchen. And there, on the worktop, is half a chocolate cake.
I look at it.
For some reason I want some cake. It’s junk food, and I know it’s bad for me but I don’t care. And no, not because I’m weak willed. I hardly ever eat junk food, so I don’t feel guilty when I do.
I cut myself a slice.
I remember that chocolate cake goes well with ice cream.
Scoop. Scoop.
Into a bowl, add a spoon and I’m done. Then I rush upstairs to enjoy my simple creation.
Or rather I don’t.
I’m sitting here right now with that bowl in front of me. It’s half finished and I don’t want any more.
I feel sick. Not in any dramatic way. Just that the more I eat, the worse my body feels. I’m not used to that any more. Food is supposed to make you feel better. That’s what it normally does.
I could leave it; but instead I’m going to force myself to eat the rest. I want to memorise how disgusting it is.
Then I’m going to eat something nice. Probably some walnuts (a food I used to hate).
The other day I wanted McDonalds randomly. I had to remind myself of the last unhappy meal I had there some two years ago. It tasted the same as it always had before. I remembered the taste from years previously and it still tasted the same. It’s just this time I actually realised that it tasted of rubber salted cardboard. For some reason I’d stopped liking that.
We must all know this food tastes disgusting right? We must know from our lips to our anus that it makes us feel awful. I think we’ve just stopped listening. Or we assume it’s normal to feel bad. And when we try eating actual food again, we have trouble tasting properly.
Leave the crap alone for a few months. It might help you remember.