Introduction

My name is Kellie and I am a food-aholic, a true eating machine.  My hobbies include cheese, cake, pizza, cookies, pasta, and more.  Give me macaroni and cheese, chocolate cupcakes with vanilla icing smothering in rainbow sprinkles, penne a la vodka, and I will love you forever.

Buy me a bowl of Panera's broccoli cheddar soup and don't forget to buy the loaf of fresh french bread with.  No, I don't want an apple or chips with my soup.  I'll take the extra bread.

Let's get some mozzarella sticks, bacon covered potato skins, and we'll finish it off with a juicy cheeseburger and fries.  Cheese fries, of course.

Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, you fill me with glee.  Every bite leaves me wanting more.  My sorrow is deep as I eat that very last bite.  But there's always another box.

Mr. Delivery Man, I anxiously await your arrival.  I run to the front door every time I hear a noise.  The moment that doorbell rings, my heart begins to beat with excitement.  I'm in love.  You are beautiful as you stand there with my large pizza with extra cheese that I am planning to consume on my own.  I see you Mr. Delivery Man as you glance in my apartment, looking for the other person I will be sharing my pizza with.  Don't judge me Mr. Delivery Man.  That pizza is for me and me alone.

Is this what my life has come to?  I don't eat to live, I live to eat!  The temptation is all around me on every grocery store shelf, on every street corner.  The lights of the fast food restaurants call to me with promises of delicious delights.  Eating takes away my pain and my boredom.  I try to be good for even a day and I end up baking and eating a dozen cupcakes.  Simply put, I love food.  It makes me happy.

The problem is that the happiness food provides me is only temporary.  Later on, after I've finished my third grilled cheese, I am filled with shame.  I develop terrible stomach aches.  Sweats have become my new fashion statement because I ate my way out of my old wardrobe.  I'm embarrassed when my boyfriend holds me while we lie in bed because I am afraid he will feel my fat rolls.  I can suck in my stomach, but I can't hold my breath 24/7.

So what's the answer?  Perhaps a new hobby or diet?  I doubt my abilities to stick with any of those things.  But I'm ready to try.  Join me in what is sure to be a difficult but hysterical journey in getting my life back.