Laura: Happiness Isn't at the Bottom of a Pint of Ice Cream

165 lbs (I must have weighed myself at a very inconvenient time last week. Probably after eating a ton of pasta from the Olive Garden in a series of "last meals" with my roommate).

I thought that perhaps this diet was going to cause me to spiral into some sort of deep depression, but quite the opposite has happened. Though I occasionally find myself standing over boxes of pizza, inhaling its intoxicating scent, I am quite proud of the fact that I’ve gone five whole days without cheating. I feel like perhaps the worst is almost over, and by the middle of next week I won’t go to sleep at night longing for a huge bowl of mashed potatoes with a side of pancakes. Someday soon I’ll stop staring longingly at the grill in the CDR, practically salivating over the mere idea of a chicken patty. I’ll be able to drive past Tim Horton’s without feeling compelled to stop in for a Maple Dip Donut. Someday in the very near future, I’ll stop fretting about what I’m not eating and enjoy the things I am consuming. There’s a turning point in the near future. Someday, an orange will become more appetizing than a piece of pizza. A salad will become more appealing than a steak.

Ultimately, I don’t think happiness needs to stem from the food I am eating. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt great after eating junk food. Eating a huge dinner at the Olive Garden is fun while it lasts, but when you’re about to burst, you sort of just feel like shit instead of feeling good. Stress eating (aka stuffing your face with half a bag of chips while trying to study for a midterm) ultimately leads to feelings of “Why did I just eat that?”

I feel like perhaps happiness will stem from a positive self image. Satisfaction will most likely come when I have conquered my cravings for an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. When I can look in the mirror and feel attractive, when someone tells me I look good, when I can finally write on an audition form that I would be willing to appear on stage in my underwear, I won’t care that I haven’t eaten bread in a really long time. I am trying to establish a new lifestyle: one that isn’t defined by what I eat. My day should not revolve around food. There is so much more to life than a burger and fries. Sure, those things are good, they taste good, but I don’t need them to be happy.

I am firm in my convictions. This is not a passing fancy. I’m in it for the long haul.