Day Eight: Hungry
This is going to sound stupid, but I used to try to hide my hunger from guys. My family had told me here and there growing up that wolfing down one’s food was impolite and unladylike, so I guess I carried that with me into dating.
It was always the same. It would have been maybe six hours since we’d last eaten, but any guy I was dating at the time and I would be sitting on the couch, watching TV, with no sign of rising any time soon.
Me (trying to act casual): So… Um, you hungry?
Guy I Was Dating At The Time (not looking away from TV): Nah. Not really.
Guy I Was Dating At The Time (looks at me, confused): Are you?
Me (laughing loudly to mask sound of growling stomach): Ahahaha no! How silly! We just ate!
I’ve simplified the scenario a bit, but it was basically just like that with everyone I dated. My mounting insecurity regarding my weight, which started when I was 7 years old, only intensified during dating. There was one guy in particular who wanted to put my mind at ease by assuring me that he would never “let” me get fat. I was too docile at the time to ask him just who in the world he thought he was, so instead, I never let on that I was hungry until he initiated a discussion about having a meal or snack himself.
Crazy, I know.
Enter Cory, the Endless Eating Machine. Scientists and great minds of the modern world have marveled at his ability to ingest copious amounts of food that seem to evaporate from his body as soon they enter.
Not only does Cory not care what I eat or when I eat, but when I’m hangry (a feeling of being so hungry that you’re angry, for those of you unfamiliar with the term), it doesn’t bother me one bit to get a little cranky and tell him, “I’ll be a lot happier if I have some food. Let’s stop hem-hawing around and get some grub.” He’s almost always ready to eat anyway, and he seems to find my hangriness amusing. Boy, is that refreshing.