My Letter To Junk Food (J.F.)

nobody@vox.com(DivaTemple) — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 11:48:47 -0400

Dear J.F.,

       I must apologize. I have been taking advantage of you for so long - and blaming you for my problems. You know, my severely expanding waistline, my rapid depletion of breath and energy, my thereisnojoyinshoppinganymore-itis... among other things. After a long, hard day I'd race into the grocery store for no other reason than to find you - in any form I felt like having you. I'd wait for minutes in a fast food line just for the satisfaction you bring to my mouth, my tastebuds, my soul.
        I've tried to avoid you, but my efforts to avoid you haven't been successful. You're simply unavoidable, and I can't take it anymore. Why is it that everywhere I look, there you are, looking back at me? I can't even drive without seeing the bright flashing lights of one of your numerous fast food chains. In the grocery store, I can't even check my items out without you gawking at me. I might have a cart filled with healthy choices, but once I lay eyes on you, I'm immediately reminded of all the day's problems, all my life's current stresses, and all of a sudden I'm telling myself how much I need you. All of a sudden I'm back to browsing down the aisles. This time, I'm looking for something to calm me down, relieve my stress, and make me happy - and I usually find it in you.
       I've been treating you like you're some kind of therapist. You're not a shrink, J.F., you're junk food. You're sugary, fattening, calorie infested, greasy....and oddly and unfortunately, great tasting. You're not a form of therapy. You're not a substitution for loving relationships, a remedy for a hard day at work, and you're not a solution for all of life's problems. But that's how myself and others have been using you, either now, or at some point in our lives.
       Maybe it's my lack of decent self-control and will power. My lack of 'doing the right thing' maturity. In a perfect world, I'd be able to handle you. But this is no perfect world, and I'm no perfect woman - so I know it's me with the problem. I just can't seem to control myself when I'm around you and it's crazy!
       What I should have done is taken more time to get to know you and see what you're really worth. If I had taken the time to notice your nutritional value - or even care for that matter - then perhaps I wouldn't have been so committed to this dysfunctional relationship. I've been looking for love and peace in all the wrong places, and I don't think you were put on this earth to live up to my high standards. You were created to be a pleasant, tasty treat, for every once in a while. But I've used you, abused you, cursed you, and ignored you. You don't deserve all that negativity and stress. You're too good for that.
       I mean, it's not like you can talk, but you still manage to tell people what they're getting into as soon as they pick you up. But like me; most people who abuse you only want you for one reason - to relive themselves of stress. We've all failed to take a deeper look and see what's really inside you, and what you really have to offer.
       J.F., I am seeking to find healing for the disorders listed in the beginning, and there's only one thing holding me back. J.F., that thing is you. The sad part is, you don't even know it. You can't put up a fight when I pick you up off the shelf. You can't jump out of the french-fry pit, land on the windshield of my Saturn and start screaming, "Please! Don't do this to yourself!" A big juicy cheeseburger doesn't remind me how much fat and how many calories are contained in each bite. Sodas don't remind me how many pounds I'll save myself from if I avoid them altogether (any guesses on what I'm eating right now?).
       My point is, I've been mistreating you, and overworking you. Hell, I'm practically putting you through slavery! You should be charging me for all the services you provide for me. I work my anger out on you, my frustration, my stress, even my happiness. Got a raise at work? Let me treat myself to a box of HoHo's or something.......
        J.F., I'm sorry for all of that. This whole time I've been hating you for what you have done/have been doing to my body and I'm sorry. You're not my enemy; I am my own enemy. I am overweight, unhealthy and can't fit into my clothes because of me - not you. Yes; it's me, not you.
       So J.F., I wish I could say this is the end of our friendship; but knowing me and my uncontrollable taste buds, will and emotions......and knowing you and your irresistible (and therapeutic) taste........I'm just going to keep hope alive and pray for the best. I'm glad I've had this opportunity to get this down in writing, though.
       J.F., you and I can have an amazing relationship; one that is stable and healthy at that. But if it seems like I am distancing myself, it's because I am! I need to, in order to make the relationship between us better. Please, don't get offended, but understand that if our relationship doesn't get better; it might just cost me my life.

Best Wishes,
Tina

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My Letter To Junk Food (J.F.)