I don’t know if “hate” is the right word, or even “dislike”, but in the best terms that you’ll be able to understand it: I hate food.
I can’t at all understand how some people find eating food enjoyable. Sure, some foods taste good. Junk food — I don’t mind eating that. But most other food seems like a chore to eat. If I didn’t have to eat, I wouldn’t, but when my stomach’s rumbling, and I feel like curling up in a ball, I know I need to get something in me.
I’ve never had much variety in what I eat. All through school, I had a chocolate milk and jam sandwich for breakfast; juice, jam sandwich, granola bar, and various other unhealthy snacks for lunch; and chicken fingers or hot dogs for dinner. On weekends, I might have cereal or pancakes or eggs, but since I don’t get up until 11:00 some days, that’s really my lunch, and I don’t actually have a breakfast.
For some time, I didn’t eat hot dogs at all — probably because I heard someone talking about how gross they are. Now, at university, I eat a different kind of chicken fingers for dinner than the ones we have at home, and now the ones at home are absolutely disgusting to me, so now I only eat hot dogs for supper at home. That is, if I remember to eat at all.
I really don’t have any sort of consistent daily schedule like I did when I was in high school. I eat when I’m hungry, not when it’s 7:40, 11:20, and 5:00.
And what should be wrong with that, eating when you’re hungry? I get wrapped up in doing things, and sometimes, I just forget to eat. And sometimes I don’t get hungry for long periods of time. There’s no sense in eating when I’m not hungry, obviously, but a girl does need to eat sometime!
Plus, the fact that I have to go down (and back up) four flights of stairs to the cafeteria every time I want to eat when I’m here at university doesn’t help. It’s really not a big deal to me anymore, but sometimes I feel a little hungry and then ask myself, “Well, is it really worth it? Am I really that hungry?”
Which, you know, isn’t all that good for me, but I could see this working amazingly well for people who want to go on a diet. Separate yourself from your only food source with exercise: “Do I really want food that much?” I think it could work quite well, plus, if you do want the food, you have to exercise to get it. Quite genius, really. Only thing is, with my name being Jenny, I can’t really get into the dieting business, because everyone would confuse me with Jenny Craig.
And I know how much this all must sound like I have an eating disorder. If someone hates food, obviously they have an eating disorder!
I. Don’t. I definitely don’t. I’ve always been skinny, and I’ve never cared all that much about my appearance, especially my weight. I don’t exercise, I don’t wear makeup, and I don’t do anything to make myself look good, so why would I want to diet? I know I’m skinny, and skinnier than I need to be. If anything, I wish I’d have a little more fat on me so maybe I’d have some boobs. But these aren’t things I think about often. I don’t obsess over my weight, what I look like, what I can fit into. I don’t know the size of my clothes. I don’t (normally) know my weight.
When I was in high school, it used to be around 110-120 pounds, if I remember correctly. I think 112 was where it lingered most of the time. Since going to university, I’ve seen it go down a bit. 108, 107. After reading week at home last month, it went back up to 109.
The only reason I’ve become concerned — and thus am writing this post — is because today, my weight was 103.
One-oh-three. What kind of weight is that!? Now granted, I did eat very little this weekend. Pancakes for breakfast Saturday and Sunday (and only half as much on Sunday), ice cream and yogurt Saturday night, jam sandwich on Sunday, and (after I weighed myself) (3/4s of) a steak on Sunday.
I don’t like feeling weak and having to lie down on my bed every once in a while. I don’t like seeing a 103 on the scale. This really sucks. But what can I do? I hate food. I just don’t like eating. There is very little I will eat, and I do try new stuff occasionally, but nothing every seems to stick.
If only I was taller and prettier, then I could be a model; I’ve already got the weight covered.