Water. Water. Water. Water. Water. Water. Water. Water. Water.

Every time I get really hungry to where I think, "Oh, hells NO!" I drink my water and really do feel better, fuller.
Also, anything I can swallow is a good thing. (Okay, who's the slut because that is so not what I meant!) I mean, when I think of my food appreciation as an addiction it goes well beyond the fact that my favorite things are unhealthy. If that was the only problem it wouldn't really be one. There are many times I don't care what I am shoving in my mouth, I don't even taste it. Chewing isn't the part and being full is not the it part either. There is some sick high I get while I am swallowing. I really have to make myself stop and think about eating. Maybe, after writing it out, it seems it could be Freudian. Like any good self-destructive addiction it only makes me feel good for a moment and then there is nothing but physical yuck-ness, guilt and self hatred. Imagine if crack was sold at brightly lit chain stores or being a ridiculous drunk was socially acceptable ~ even smokers are chastised these day. However, if your poison is food you have about ten or more 24 hour hook ups just waiting to kill you slowly and for under a dollar at most places. Humf.

Well, while writing all of that I thought, "Give yourself a number, Little FAT Me, and then work on chewing that many times." I came up with 32, because that seems to be what all people over the age of forty were told by their grandparents. Who knows? Sometimes old people are the best to ask. Of course the first snack I ate after that revelation was hummus. Hummus is not something you can really chew, much less 32 times. Alright, next time.