Disabling Cookies

At my request, Hubs brought home some Pepperidge Farm cookies on Tuesday night. My two favorite kinds: Milanos and Brussels (I've got a thing for Europe, what can I say?). After dinner, I put two of each cookie on a paper towel and nibbled them as I cleared the table and played with Kid. The strangest thing happened while I ate them:

I REALIZED THEY WEREN'T VERY GOOD.

This realization gets its own line, and capitalization why? Because I love cookies. ALL cookies. But especially Pepperidge Farm cookies. I used to wait until they were on sale and buy bag after bag of them, stashing them everywhere, eating an entire package at a time. I would go into a cookie trance: hand to bag, hand to mouth, hand back in bag. I even tried to hide how many of them I was eating by crumpling up the empty paper cup thingies and using them to prop up the last cookie in the bag. (My idea was that if somebody peeked in the bag, they'd see that cookie and think it was the last one in the first layer of cookies.) When I started getting in shape for the nine millionth time, I issued a self-imposed ban on these little buggers. No more! I said to myself. Not in this house! NO COOKIES!

I caved on Tuesday and asked Hubs to bring them home because I'm struggling with serious sugar cravings right now, mostly because I'm taking pain medication. As I've mentioned before, every time I go on heavy-duty pain meds (i.e. Percocet), I end up with insane, mind-bending sugar cravings that can only be eased by eating, well, SUGAR. My theory is that because the pain meds slow down my digestive system, my food is being digested/absorbed much slower than usual. And then I think my body kind of panics and says, "THERE'S NO FOOD IN HERE! SEND SOMETHING QUICK!" and makes me berserk for the easiest, quickest energy source (sugar). I've been keeping the Sugar Monster at bay by eating fruit and sucking on the occasional LifeSaver -- although quite frankly after the hospital I'm sick of those things -- but on Tuesday it was just out of control.

So there we are...another food obsession seems to have bitten the proverbial dust. I'm feeling a weird combination of relief, pride, and sadness. Relief, because really? Who wants to be a slave to a cookie? Pride because I can now see those cookies anywhere and know they're not the boss of me anymore. But why sadness?

I'm a little sad I suppose because who I am is changing (has changed). So much of my identity is based on me being the chubby, nerdy best friend, the funny fat girl, all of those stereotypes. But I don't want to be that anymore. I don't feel like I am that as much as I was even a year ago. And that leads me to the question, "Who am I NOW?" Or, more importantly, "Who do I want to be?" The answers to those questions aren't totally clear just yet. I know I have a lot of changing left to do, both internally and externally. I know that one's identity is never really set or fixed; it's always in flux, and that's okay.

Who do I want to be?