As I post on Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest about Keto recipes and ideas, I wanted to be honest about that other part of the “weight loss journey.” The part we don’t always talk about. Those moments when we do crave junk. When we fall back on old habits. When we seek comfort or punishment in food. How depression can manifest itself in a cupcake.’
I am having a stand-off with a cupcake.
It’s not even the good kind.
Just a generic copy-cat after-school snack for kids who don’t mind
I don’t even like cupcakes that much.
There are healthier options – nuts, avocados, smart snacks, and smoothies to make –
but instead I’m staring down a too-sweet concoction made of refined sugar and regret.
I don’t drink alcohol or do drugs, but I am overweight.
Sometimes I wonder if there’s a worse sin than “fat.”
I taught myself to eat my feelings and the unlearning is –
is torture too much hyperbole? –
Depression is terrible at remembering the end-game,
planning for an upbeat future,
remembering to value the long-term over the now.
I reach for the cupcake, furtively glancing around me,
hastily unwrap it,
then stuff it quickly into my mouth so not to leave any evidence
of my disgrace.
For one moment – just a tiny moment – I feel satisfied.
Then, I think F*&#.
I don’t swear, so I only think it, but it reverberates in my head.
Maybe I’d feel better if I said it out loud?
The cupcake sits in my stomach like a lump of shame,
exacerbated by the fact that I didn’t even really enjoy it.
The question is, “What does this cupcake mean?”
Do I give up and simply shove whatever nearby carb-loaded concoction
offers the best temporary sugar high,
reminding me that I am weak, hopeless, never enough?
Or do I toss my shame with the wrapper,
determined to try again,
realizing that my worth is not determined by