Eating Can Be Stressful

I've always wanted to believe there's some kind of biological reason stress leads to eating.  It would explain college.  

Obviously, a lot of people, and let's not lie to ourselves, especially lots of women, eat when stressed.  What I mean is, I want someone to say, "Don't worry, honey.  That's natural.  Your body makes you do it."

This is what ruined my diet in college: I never slept at all on Wednesday nights.  I was married to the student newspaper, and we pulled all-nighters on Hump Day.  The student newspaper traded a free ad to the snack bar upstairs for providing a refrigerator-sized box each week filled with pizza, soda, candy bars and chips.  And finally, no matter what I did to try to prevent it, I ate the stuff in the box.

I would do everything I could think of to try to avoid the box.  I would move it behind a bookshelf on the other side of the room.  I would eat as many vegetables as I could for dinner so I would be full. I'd bring my own healthy snacks. 

But dang that box.  It beat me at my game every time.  Always the candy bars, and it's not as if I'd eat just one.  

Interestingly, the semester after I graduated I lost 15 lbs., and it's never come back.  Admittedly this is most likely due to Weight Watchers, but I'm also going to give props to myself for leaving the box, and that type of stress, behind.

Cue this week in my life.  One day this week, I started an interview for a magazine article I was writing at 7:30 a.m.  By 10 p.m. I had written and turned in three of my own articles and submitted what will probably be the most controversial issue yet of the high school paper I advise to the printer.  

The stress level felt extremely familiar, and for whatever reason it was the first time I'd felt that type of stress since college.  It's not the worst kind of stress, not like the kind when you've committed a crime or lost a loved one.  And it's not like when you have a ton of stuff to do and you don't want to do any of it.  No, it's exhilarating: Adrenaline shoots through your body, and you are forced to perform superhuman acts just to stay above water.  It's glorious and horrifying all at once.

Anyway, by 10 p.m., I was scouring my kitchen for that box.  "Why did I ban candy bars from entering my house?" I thought. Then I remembered the elusive 15 lbs.

I went to the Internet to figure out why stress may drive me to chocolate. I found an article from last month's Mayo Clinic magazine, and it basically told me that what I am talking about is called emotional eating.  Really the only plausible reason they offered for the eating was eating is a distraction from my problems.  Whoopty-doo.  I wanted those smarty doctors to tell me there was a "eateverythinginsightrightnow" chemical in my brain forcing me to eat.

The article also offered some lame advice to overcome emotional eating.  It had some great ideas, like eat healthy food, which I clearly have tried, and get enough sleep.  Oh yes, Mayo Clinic Geniuses, I will just go ahead and sleep through my two children 2 and younger screaming and all my work responsibilities  calling my name.

Apparently, I didn't need medical doctors to tell me how to escape emotional eating.  You see, that box, it's two hours away.  Even I am not that desperate for chocolate.