My home is not a place to eat. I’ve finally come to that unfortunate conclusion. I almost never really take the time to sit down and eat at home. I don’t eat breakfast anymore, so that’s out. Lunch I eat at work. Dinner, I often eat at work, or I don’t really eat dinner at all. My dining room table is never cleared; the few times my boyfriend and I eat in on the weekends, I clear off enough for two plates and glasses. Often, we or I eat on the coffee table during a movie, crouched over the food from my futon. Once, when my boyfriend stayed over and left after I had to go to work, he left me post-it notes in various places around my apartment. It took me 3 days, I think, to find the one in my fridge. He put that one there on purpose. There isn’t a whole lot in there, or not much I’m willing to bother with. What food I get stays in there until finally I throw it out. Every weekend, it’s the same:

Boy: “You want breakfast?”

Me: “Hmmm….yeah.”

Boy: “What do you want?”

Me: “I don’t really have anything here.”

In general, my home has not become a place to enjoy food. And once I made that connection, it set off a few alarm bells – more than all the ones the past year about eating healthy and eating at all and eating office snacks until 9pm, then going home and heading straight to bed (or the Internet) without much of substance in my stomach. And my lunch, some days, winds up being ramen or McDonald’s.

I like chalking it up to work, and my busy schedule, and being in my 20s. But, really, those are just excuses. I’m making excuses for not eating! But it’s a habit that has ingrained itself in my life for so many months, it’s incredibly difficult to break. I go through bouts of trying: I went out and bought a Dutch oven, made some hardcore vegetable soup from scratch, with plans to make a mushroom soup tomorrow. So this week, I will have healthy lunches and dinners. By next week, as usual, I will have forgotten entirely about my interest in learning to cook anything besides Annie’s, about the new “quick and healthy” cookbook I found in the bargain bin at Barnes & Nobles, about the magazine full of recipes I picked up while shopping for my strange ingredients (I mean, celery root? One slice of pumpkin? Do you know how big pumpkins can get?).

And then I’ll get caught up in work, insisting I cannot possibly work from home (for my current project, this often means lugging home 2 binders with 3 inches worth of documentation), or get into work at 7am instead of yawning in at 9am. And then it gets to 8pm. That awkward time: I won’t get home until at least 8:30 or 9, which appears to put making anything remotely substantial out of the question; after all, don’t I want to go to bed at 10? Get up early? Make tea, get into the office before everyone else – that quiet ahh time?

Nope. Instead, I don’t eat, stay up until midnight or later “accidentally” playing on my iPad, or reading 50 different articles I keep stumbling upon, or reading a book, or double checking Facebook again. And then snooze, no matter what time I set my alarm for, wake up, run into work, and the eating habits start again. Or perhaps lack thereof.

I don’t have a super amazing image of myself. I don’t necessarily have a terrible one, but (on the plus side?) I am more confident in my learning abilities and knowledge than I am my body. Anyone who looks at me seems to disagree: I’m pretty small. But there are areas I’d like to be a little smaller. I’m terribly out of shape. My point is, though, that I’ve never had an eating problem. I’ve never tried throwing up, or starving myself, or flat-out not eating. This isn’t like one of those. But it’s an issue, I recognize that much. It’s just one I don’t know how to solve. I don’t really know what to do.

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