food = memories

My memories seem to revolve around tastes and smells. Birthdays were spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread at grandma's house. Thanksgivings were binge~fests. The whole family dressed in their baggiest pig out clothes and ate everything, all day long. Christmases were my mom baking pumpkin rolls and sourdough breads. (ok, maybe a couple of christmases... not all) My days as an only child in a single parent home... a single parent that rarely if ever wanted to play with me or anything... were filled with tv and macaroni and cheese with hotdogs or ramen noodles. Anything I could cook because my mom rarely cooked and even more rarely cleaned. The house I lived in with my mom was filled with animals and feces and vomit and maggots and dirty clothes and dirtier dishes. I couldn't have friends over and we usually pretended we weren't home. At night, the lights stayed off so nobody could see into the house. If I wanted to eat, I washed the dishes it required and the microwaved it myself. Often, I would call a family member and ask if they would bring me food and they would bring me mcdonalds or something or pick me up and take me to their house. I spent a lot of my childhood at my Aunt's houses or at my Gramma's house. My mom cleaned her house once a year or so and it would be really nice for a few months, but for some reason it always got bad again. I remember binging as early as 7 or 8 years old in that house. a couple of cans of ravioli, some ramen, a whole bag of apples, a bag of chips. Where was my mom? I dont remember, I know she took a LOT of naps. She was going to college, working all hours and had an internship at one point, so I know she was tired... but damn.
Back to food = memories. When I was first sexually molested, he gave me mint chocolate cake afterwards and told me that I was a good girlfriend. BLECHH. I am surprised I actually like mint chocolate...
I worked in food service from the age of 17 until 31. So that right there is a lot of memories with friends and co workers, jobs I liked and jobs I hated. When I got out of food service, I was pregnant and sciatica stopped me from carrying the trays and from putting up with the people I was serving. I had zero tolerance and cried a lot. So I quit food service and lost all of my so called friends that I did drugs with and hung out with. I stopped cocaine, marijuana, alcohol, and cigarettes. I ate. I ate everything and cried and ate and laughed and ate and ate and ate. I gained 100 pounds. Since I had the baby 2 and a half years ago, I have gained 25 more. My house is cluttered (not gross, though... I have company and my pets are in tanks or cages..) My dishes are currently all in one sink, just dirty from lunch an hour or so ago. My son can take a bath whenever he wants without me having to scrub the cat feces and urine out of the tub. I dont have cats, even if I did, I couldn't ever live like that the way I used to have to when it wasn't MY choice. My food issues run deep and seem to be attached to a lot of emotional baggage. I am using food... for a lot of different reasons.
The vegetarianism is going really well. I cooked with tofu today. Not bad at all. I feel a lot better than I used to and the fast food cavings are slowly dissapating. I pray that I am on the right track, but I know that just for today I am in recovery. And that is wonderful. ;)