Ripe for eating

I have a near adulterous relationship with food. Especially when it comes in the form of comfort food.

Comfort food to me is anything that I grew up eating, which encompasses quite a bit. It can be chicken pot pie, fresh watermelon, hand shucked corn, any form of pasta, Chinese chicken salad, celery with cream cheese in the middle, chicken breast done a thousand different ways, steak and potatoes, peas off the vine, steamed zucchini, orange glazed carrots, wild rice, white rice and any other form of rice (I love rice), strawberries, blackberries and blueberries, or anything bbq'd. And don't forget the chocolate...oh, the chocolate! (I was going to put *orgasmic* after my chocolate rant but I can't decide if that is too inappropriate. Cover your eyes kids!)

This is me on a regular basis

Anyways, this does not scratch the culinary surface of my childhood but you get the point. What I'm trying to say is that my mom loved to cook and I loved to eat her food. She was a very gifted cook and I am a very gifted eater.

Lately I've had a very interesting relationship with food. When my mom was really sick I ate as often as I could. There was always some sort of fast food, bread or sugar treat that would make me instantly feel better and, let me be frank, I needed all the good feelings I could get. So I ate and ate and ate. Even after my mom passed my mind decided that food was the only thing that uplifted me, even if it was just momentarily. So I ate.

And I gained 10 pounds. And it sucks. 

Now before you start throwing rotten fruits in my direction please just hear me out. I know what most of you are thinking. I'm a stupid, skinny, you-know-what that should stop typing now before you break each of my fingers, slowly, Godfather style. Please just give me a moment to explain myself.

Thank you.

It sucks because I had to buy all new pants and my shirts now reveal all of the nooks and crannies beneath their nearly-sheer cotton goodness. I had to try on at least 8 different sizes of pants at Express in order to figure out what didn't squeeze my newly gained love handles into muffin tops. I hate trying on jeans and that experience was just pure torture. 

I know, I know. I shouldn't complain but I hate it. I want to have my old body back. I want to fit into my pants and wear cotton jersey dresses without them hitting me in all the wrong spots. I tried dieting but I just love food too much. I exercise but obviously not enough. And it frustrates me. 

Most of the time when I want something I get it. I work hard to get it or I cry and kick and scream until someone gives it to me. Just joking, I would never do that...or would I? So the fact that I can't lose these pesky pounds is driving me nuts.

Any who, I was watching Ina on the Food Network today (love you Ina) and realized how much I miss my weekly culinary adventures with Sarah and how much I miss my Kitchenaid and how much I miss making something new even if I do completely char or over season it. I LOVE COOKING!

This is me, like everyday

There I said it. Whew, glad to get that off my chest. I love to cook and I love to eat delicious food. I love to watch Andrew's face to see if he likes or even dislikes the prepared meal I place before him and have him rank it on a scale from 1 to 10. (We are amateur food critics.) And I love that food makes me happy. That's probably a sentence that any psychologist could find so many things wrong with but whatever. 

I need to find a balance between my love of food and a healthy body. I don't want to go jean shopping every year because my waist line continues to expand. I don't want to diet and I don't want to stop eating delicious food. 

I'm at an impasse. What to do, what to do?