For the Love of a Grocery Store

Hans and I went shopping last night, and I started thinking about my obsession with food. When I say obsession, I mean obsession. I love food. I think about it so much I actually dream about it. There's a wonderful picture of me and Hans at our wedding that perfectly describes my relationship with food. I'm giving Hans a kiss, but if you look in my hands I'm still holding the roll I'd just picked up. I definitely wasn't about to set it down.

While my love of food has caused me to face some weight issues, I really wanted to know where my love of food came from. Not everyone dreams about food the way I do (last night I had a great dream about a wedding feast), and certainly not everyone sees it as their personal goal to try every, single thing in a buffet. Even Hans, who enjoys food, does not appreciate it the way I do. So where does my love come from?

Like any good psychiatrist will tell you, it's best to blame your mother. :P Sorry Mom! Yes, my parents made me try everything that was on my plate, but they didn't make me enjoy it. That being said, though, they definitely helped me enjoy it.

I remember going to the grocery store when I was younger. I LOVED the grocery store! As if all those colorful boxes weren't enough, they even gave you a cart to ride in. Then, to make matters worse, Mom would make that cart even more fun. She'd give that cart a push down the aisle, and I'd go soaring. Of course, she was always right there to make sure I didn't crash, but it didn't feel that way to me. It felt like flying. So, instead of seeing the grocery store as a boring, weekly chore, that I HAD to do with Mom, I saw it as a chance to play and have fun. And, if I was really good, I might walk out of the store with a candy bar. Do you see what I mean? Mom made me love food!

Now that I'm grown, I don't ride in the carts or walk out with candy bars (that caused enough issues), but I do still love the store. Getting there can be a chore, but once I'm there I can spend an hour just getting a bottle of milk. There are too many wonderful things to look at and enjoy for me to just walk past them.

So, what's my daily struggle? I must constantly balance my love of food with my love of a healthy body. I must be able to enjoy and savor my food without gorging myself on it. What's the point of gorging anyway? You never really taste your food when you do that. Most importantly, I must go to the grocery store for a bottle of milk, and only come out with a bottle of milk. When people ask, "What's so wrong with buying something extra?" I just tell them, "I love food."