Well, the answer is that food addicts are not addicted to all foods. I’ve never heard of someone being addicted to broccoli. It might taste good roasted with olive oil and tossed with pine nuts and Parmesan cheese, but I’ve never sat on my couch thinking, “Oh my God, I want to binge on broccoli!” And even if I did, it’s broccoli. How much damage can a load of cruciferous vegetables really do? I’m not going to start sprouting green florets out of my head.

Most food addicts have trigger foods which are easy to identify because you usually find yourself plunged face first into them. Some people have weaknesses for salty snacks, but I am mostly undone by sweet foods, especially the crunchy ones. I stopped buying Go Lean! Crunch about a year ago because I could not stop munching on it. The same goes for granola. My other triggers include honey or agave nectar, which I will suck right out of the bottle. Other obvious ones are chocolate, ice cream and most any candy. I love baked goods too, like toasted bagels, donuts, or any kind of cake or bread.

So, if I were really, really serious about overcoming food addiction, I would never eat any of these foods again. This is why I am not really, really serious about overcoming food addiction. No more bagels? Ever? For real? The very thought of never having sweet chocolate again makes me want to weepy salty tears.

Instead, my current strategy is to never bring these foods into my house, or if I do bring only one serving at a time. Boxes of 100-calorie packs do not work for me because I eat the whole box. It may say six servings on the side of the box, but I know I am just buying one serving divided into six packages. If you sit just one cinnamon roll in front of me, I will savor its gooey goodness, but if there aren’t any more to binge on, I’m ok. I’ll eat most of this stuff in restaurants too, though the never-ending bread basket can be dangerous, so I avoid that all together if I can. Sometimes this works, other times I stuff my face with pudding and wonder if the scientists will ever figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

People frequently debate what it’s better to be addicted to: food, alcohol, drugs or cigarettes? It seems a bit silly to debate since it sucks to be addicted to anything. Each one has their ups and downs. While as a food addict I cannot give up food all together, a part of me is pleased that I can still consume that which I have an unholy love for as long as I limit it to scenarios where I’m forced to moderate myself. Alcoholics and smokers have to give it up all together, poor bastards. I often complain about the social pressure there is to eat, especially at offices with lots of cake lying around, but there is social pressure to smoke and drink too. I have a friend who’s mostly quit smoking, but craves cigarettes whenever she goes to a bar because so many people smoke there. I also feel bad alcoholics because if a celebratory event doesn’t involve food, it most likely involves alcohol. I’ve lost track of the number of times coworkers or friends have invited me out drinking. If I were an alcoholic, I’d be tempted to become a homebody, or just hang around sober people. I’m mostly grateful that they invite me to bars and not cupcakeries, because then I’d be well and truly screwed.

Ultimately, I decided the name doesn’t matter. A name is just a box we put ideas in. What matters is that I understand my relationship with food. Then I can start figuring out the consequences my environment, my thoughts, and my actions have on that relationship and make plans to manipulate these things to my best advantage. I don’t know what the official definition of addiction is, though I could look it up on dictionary.com or the DSM-IV (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). I don’t know if what happens in my brain when there is leftover cake in the break room is the same thing that happens when an alcoholic is inside a liquor store or a smoker is inhaling second-hand smoke at a bar. It would be interesting to know, but I doubt it matters unless you’re working on a cure for addiction. Right now I’m just trying to cope with the way I am. Giving my problems a name seems less relevant than managing them.

It’s nice to have the name, for sure. Then you can popularize the term and it makes it easier to explain it to other people. You can say, “I’m an alcoholic” and people instantly understand what you mean. It would be nice to have scientific proof too because then you can point to the studies and the fancy medical speak and explain to people why you are the way you are. That would make them stop jabbering on about willpower and calorie counting and stop them wondering why these silly fat people can’t stop eating so much already. Once people see that there is a biological reason for the way you are, they get much more understanding and stop blaming you for a character flaw.

So, addict, compulsive overeater, or Lady Piggy McEatsalot, I don’t care what you call me, but at least I know what I am.

The fact that you have to make the promise shows that you have a problem. I’ve never had to promise not to take another drink because I don’t care much for alcohol. It makes my headache worse and I’ve never thought the buzz was worth all the calories. There’s a bottle of vodka that has been in my freezer since July and it will probably still be there next year. That’s how I know I’m not an alcoholic. However, I have often promised myself that I will only eat half the meal at a restaurant and then eaten the whole plate. I’ve promised I won’t drive to the grocery store for ice cream, and then ridden home with a half-pint of Ben & Jerry’s. I’ve promised I wouldn’t eaten a lot of things and then I’ve eaten them anyway.

Which is why I have to say, “Hello, my name is Jennette and I’m a food addict.”

Last year I reviewed a book about food addiction and mentioned that I did not consider myself a food addict. One or two people commented, “Really? Are you sure?” I used to weigh almost 400 pounds. It’s not out of the question to wonder if I had a deeper problem than licking the beaters too many times. But things had been going pretty well and I had been eating really well and exercising and I didn’t think I had much of a problem with food.

In the past year however, my life has spiraled out of control in interesting ways, which has made me want to eat. Food is my drug, Kroger is my dealer and I’ve definitely been using. I’m still not sure if “addict” is quite the right word. The term “compulsive eater” might be a better description. I’ve definitely felt compelled to eat. I’ve wanted to eat chocolate in a way that is more powerful than just a desire for something yummy. I’ve wanted to eat when I’m not hungry. I’ve wanted to eat when I know it will make me gain weight or cause me health problems, and I’ve done it anyway. I’ve wanted to eat in some primal way that goes beyond just the need for survival.

When I’ve resisted the urge, it’s been hard. Very hard. I’ve sat on my hands in restaurants. I’ve gone to take a nap because I know I won’t eat in my sleep. I’ve manically gnawed on celery in an attempt to fill me up so I won’t eat an entire batch of muffins. Many times the only reason I haven’t eaten seconds is because I know other people will notice. I’ve looked at the half-eaten meals on friends plates at dinners and realized they don’t have the same need to keep eating that I do. I’ve realized I’m a bit different.

I’ve been reading All In My Head, a book by Paula Kamen about her fight with chronic daily headache. When speaking about the disease of headache she quotes Susan Sontag who says, “Theories that diseases are caused by mental states and can be cured by will power are always an index of how much is not understood about the physical terrain of a disease.” That can certainly be said of obesity. I think it’s true of addiction too. I don’t know why I am the way I am. Perhaps someday in the future they’ll be able to reprogram people’s brains so they don’t feel these destructive compulsions. All I know is that I have a screwed up relationship with food and I probably always will.

I know someone out there will now suggest I should go to Overeaters Anonymous. Thanks for your concern and for the suggestion. I’m glad there are programs out there for food addicts that have helped many people, but OA does not seem like a good fit for me at this time. As long as I avoid certain trigger foods or keep those foods in my trunk (like the bagels and honey that are freezing in the parking lot as I type), I seem to do ok. I only hit serious trouble when my life goes out of balance in other ways and in my sadness I reach for the Ho-Hos. But I can still recover from that by going to the gym and eating well for several days afterwards.

For now, it’s just enough for me that I can say, “Hello, my name is Jennette and I’m a compulsive eater.”