Why Starve For Your Art- I'm Eating For Mine

If you've been keeping up with my Facebook status you know I've begun Operation Fit-Back-Into-Pants. This is because I've been eating for my art. A lot.

No one tells you the dangers of snacking while writing. I'm going to tell you now. Sometimes your brain is so immersed in the story you have no idea you ate all the food in your house.

 

Yeah, Barbie blackout binges too.

It all began during the editing process of Chasing Delia I may have done some stress eating.

 

And it's not like those 

bourbon pecan bars are going to eat themselves

The eat-a-thon carried over into the writing of Taming Kat. I've never eaten more than when I was writing the first draft of Taming Kat. Oh, wait. No. I ate even more the first half of the first draft of my current WIP.

 

Mmm, I love these characters. And cake. I should eat cake.

And when you're sitting in yoga pants typing away at the keyboard you don't notice things like gaining copious amounts of weight. Then boom. You're going out and need to put on real pants and all of the sudden it's the battle of the bulge. Also known as,

My pants were rejecting the amount of body being stuffed into them. I feared the button would become a projectile that could blind an innocent bystander in it's efforts to hold strong.

For real

I was out of control and greatly exceeding the proportions of my pants. Quite honestly they were being stretched in ways no decent pair of pants should be stretched. I knew what I had to do.

 

Easier said than done. 

I changed out the Cheetos, (ate them *ehem) chips, and biscuits for raw veggies, fruit, and hummus. I mean, I'd been an eat clean girl for years. How had all the junk food made it's way into my house? I wasn't only blackout eating, I was blackout shopping! The madness had to stop. For the sake of my pants.

It wasn't a day in before the hanger pains began.

I was getting adequate caloric intake, but my stomach was shrinking down from buffalo gut to that of a 5'4'' medium framed woman. I'd been eating like a 6'5'' trucker for months. My stomach didn't want to hear my excuses about wanting my waist line back.

I had to remind myself twenty times a day I wasn't going to eat for my own amusement.

 

Meal time was a sad affair 

I'm now into week two of making good choices--food choices. The hanger is gone. I've come to a place of peace and understanding. Or at least I'm no longer licking the walls and wanting to punch people. I'm fitting into my pants a little easier each day and have gone from muffin-top to small homemade cupcake without the frosting. 

 

That's adorably inspirational. 

I almost don't want to set it on fire just to watch it burn.

Okay... maybe I'm still a little hangry. 

So, I'm getting back into shape. Or at least a shape that fits comfortably into my pants. Same thing, right?

Do you binge eat while writing or is it just me?