Until I was able to humble myself and admit, both to myself and others, that I was a compulsive eater, I could not recover. My honor stood in the way. The conversations in my head were full of excuses. The fault was either in the particular day's circumstances and stresses, or the problem was non-existent, at all. I told myself that I was really capable of taking control, when the time would be right for me.
My lust for the substance of my addiction blinded me to the truth. And when I met a person who behaved appropriately around food, my abnormal logic caused me to think that she was unusual. Although I did not consider myself jealous, I'm sure that, in the recesses of my mind, I was guilty of this too.
Today I look back at the folly of my ways.
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