A Well-Balanced Dietary Deprivation

My Dangerously-Poor (Non) Eating Habits

Frank G. Sterle Jr.

Reprinted from "Eating Disorders" issue of Visions Journal, 2002, No. 16, p. 22

‘Lunch is for wimps,” says Gordon Geco, the multi-billionaire business-tycoon from the 1980s, Hollywood-hit movie Wall Street. He said these rather arrogant words in a speech to an auditorium full of admirers.

Well, although I do not agree with Geco’s opinion, during the working day, I deprive myself daily of lunch. I do not eat lunch — sometimes not even supper — and never, ever breakfast (though the latter bad habit is mostly due to an absolute absence of any appetite).

Why do I maintain such a potentially devastating dietary lifestyle? For multiple reasons: for one thing, if I do eat lunch, I find that I’m left burnt-out for the remainder of my working day; my working day consists of computer-related labour, which is my reason for going to my local clubhouse (since I’m not that sociable of a guy) during the week, and sometimes even Saturdays, if they’re open. My fellows there often ask me if and why I’m not sharing in lunch with them (although I’ll often eat whatever leftovers that they’re about to throw out). I explain to them that if I do eat, I’ll find myself tired afterwards and unable to concentrate on my writing-related chores or projects.

Laziness? It seems that the only ‘wimp’ is me, because I’m usually willing to have my culinary brother prepare me a dinner (consisting, of course, of a product agreeable to my palate). I believe he fears that I, a Type-2 (i.e., adult-form) diabetic, will basically allow myself to eventually cease to exist if he does not assist me with my diet. Just the thought of shopping for, cleaning and preparing anything near a balanced meal gives me a formidable anxiety attack.

What has absolutely no relation to my poor (non) eating habits is a shortage of funds; people often misperceive such. One morning I found a plastic bag with two large cans of brand-name stew hanging from my door knob; perhaps such misperception is related to my willingness to take home donated food stuffs from the clubhouse.

But I eventually do eat — something — very-late afternoon or very-early evening, although it’s a meal too-often consisting solely of fattening carbohydrates. I’m left no real choice but to eventually eat, basically because my body begins to feel as though it has already begun digesting itself; or hypoglycemia begins to set in, which is playing with mortal fire.

I know, I know: I’m diabetic and need to eat three to five small, very-balanced meals every day. All of which is the most pressing reason behind my dangerously-poor eating habits: my devaluation of my very existence. Simply put, I do not care much for my life and, thus, am not really motivated by much to coerce myself into eating 3-5 small, balanced meals every day.

I get some sort of dysfunctional sense of satisfaction whenever I deprive my body of proper nourishment. Though consciously, I believe, I do not particularly wish to perish. Otherwise, why do I, for example, continue to drink coffee when it does virtually nothing but harm me and cause me to suffer? The stimulus effect does very little for me but make me excessively stressed, especially when I’m normally very stressed as it is — without any caffeine, and while consuming a plethora of psychiatric medications.

Unfortunately, what I often do not refrain from is fattening junk foods; my taste buds seem to usually be exempt from all of this self-deprivation. This terrible exemption ensures that I maintain an albeit-fluctuating 300 pounds in weight. But I realize that this great weight will only hasten the perhaps-permanent damage done by my one late-afternoon/early-evening, usually poor-quality meal a day. Perhaps I subconsciously desire such hastened damage.

Smorgasbords? Because of my clinical OCD, I have to totally abstain from such temptation-abundant eating opportunities, or else I’ll most-likely end up abusing it, not surprisingly without any regard for my health.

But what does it matter, if according to my psyche, it’s only my life I’m dealing with?

Perhaps another factor behind my poor eating habits is my OCD-exacerbated guilt-complex troubling me over world hunger. But, nonetheless, it’s a dangerously real mentality of mine that must dramatically change if there’s to be any real improvement in my well-balanced dietary deprivation.

 
About the author
Frank lives in White Rock
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