“Dear John” Letter to My Binge Eating
Dearest B,
Remember the days when we could still laugh and frolic together? Carefree days of buckets of fried chicken; pizza delivery; and take-out menus that we shared. Those promises you made to me over General Tao chicken sure sound hollow now.
You’ve slowly turned from a nurturing, steadfast companion into a demanding tyrant — always wanting more and more. I gave you the best days of my life — days that I can’t get back. Days I spent holed up in my house with you alone — thinking I had found true love.
Ha! I even drew the blinds, turned off the phone and dimmed the lights for our romantic interludes. You are an Oscar-worthy actor with your fantastic performances.
Now I find how treacherous you are with your siren song of, “Follow me. Come this way and all your heart’s desires will be met.”
My heart is shattered. My self-esteem is in the gutter.
You seem to get great pleasure watching me wallow in my neediness and gallon of Double Fudge Häagen-Dazs.
Yes, “Dearest B,” the torment of finding about all the other women — your lovers — your affairs. I know about them. Yes, I’ve even met them at a Binge Eating Disorder Retreat. Not one of us has survived our corrosive relationship with you intact.
OR SO WE THOUGHT. Meeting each other has given us a strength and awareness of our own power we didn’t know we had within us. We have choices in our lives. We never imagined we could be free of your control, but you are no longer in control, YOU BULLY, YOU WIMP.
We all have the challenge of fashioning a new life after you, “Dearest B.” A new life not defined by you; no more planning my days and nights around you. No more money spent on lavish feasts that provided no real nourishment in the end.
You’re a phantom lover; a figment of my imagination, but the reality has been revealed to me and your numerous paramours.
YOU BASTARD.
Stay out of my life and take your bucket of fried chicken with you. I’ve already called KFC to let them know they will need to lay off some employees as their fried chicken take-out orders will be plummeting.
Oh, and expect quite a bit of mail in the next few days. You may need to get a larger mailbox, as these ladies at the Retreat are in the midst of writing their own “Dearest B” letters.
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