What's In A Name?

I had a list of blog names going in a little notebook next to my bed: mostly self-deprecating, a few downright hateful, some just ridiculously lame. Finally, I settled on Foodie versus Fattie. Why? Because part of my problem with weight is my totally unhealthy relationship with food. I don't just like to eat. I love to eat. But here's the catch -- I'm a food snob. So when I binge, it's not Fritos and Big Macs that I'm stuffing down my gullet. It's organic this, field-raised that, hand-crafted-by-hippies-in-Vermont stuff that packs the caloric equivalent of six hours at the Old Country Buffet.

My inner Foodie understands that these amazing things are supposed to be enjoyed in small portions, the two- or three-bite dishes you see on Top Chef. Beautiful food. Passionate food. Artfully prepared food. You know, FOODIE food.

Fattie, on the other hand, has no understanding of "less is more." MORE is more, and more is better, right? If an ounce of fresh buffalo mozzarella, sandwiched between home-grown basil and a slice of organic heirloom tomato, is good, then a whole pound of mozzarella is fucking Shangri-La.

So the battle rages on...Foodie spies high-end goods at the store and loads up the cart, imagining fantastic meals for everyone. Fattie gets to the car, waits 'til no one's looking, and scarfs down half a baguette before leaving the parking lot. It all sounds very schizophrenic, and in some ways I guess it is. But what they both have in common is that they're emotionally attached to food. Foodie is getting high on flavor, and Fattie is self-medicating (a habit that started back in the period I like to call Eating My Way Through My Parents' Divorce).

I just want to eat in peace. I'll never be one of those people who can see food purely as fuel -- I think that's kind of a sad way to live (unless you're a pro athlete or something, and you HAVE to live that way). But I'd like to be able to eat a meal without ten steamer trunks of emotional baggage tied to my fork.