Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Romantic relationships can be tough—full of extreme highs and low lows. They’re filled with lots of joy and butterflies that eventually all get swallowed up by a pit in the bottom of your stomach when things end. Relationships begin with a smile (or a drunken hello) and end with a tear, but everything in between is a rollercoaster of emotions and a series of decisions that directly or indirectly affect the outcome.

I’ve come to a recent epiphany. I’ve had lots of ups and downs in my love life (or what I now fondly refer to as my love-less life) during the last seven months, but I would have to say that the hardest break-up I’ve had to go through—and at the same time nonetheless—is my split from high-calorie, greasy, heaping portions of food.

I guess food is just like a romantic relationship—every meal starts with a smile (how could I ever frown at a bowl of ice cream or a juicy, medium-rare hamburger with a side of crispy tater tots), but eventually the relationship turns sour and leaves me with nothing but a stomachache.

I always thought that bowl of ice cream and I shared a mutual love only to discover a nasty secret—our relationship has been one sided the entire time. While I was enjoying every lick or spoonful, the saturated fats and added sugars were increasing my cholesterol and adding inches to my waist. It may or may not have been trying to hurt me on purpose, but that’s life. Trans-fat happens. Ice cream can, and will, literally break my heart (heart attack).

It is depressing to accept that such joy could ever leave me in such dire straits. Same happens with love. Once in a while I look back and, as the Turtles song “So Happy Together” plays in my head along with the memories of an old flame, I can’t quite recall how things got to this point. Were those fleeting moments of happiness with hot fudge worth the pain I feel now that I can’t button my pants? Maybe. It’s hard to judge the decisions made while in love once that love has fizzled.

Like all relationships, eating certain foods usually seems like a good idea at the time. I love ice cream and hamburgers. I love most food, like I love most types of men. But not all food or men are suitable for my well-being.

There’s usually a life-altering moment that helps one come to such a realization. Mine was when I got my high cholesterol numbers and stern instructions from my doctor to drop some serious pounds. I had to make an immediate decision to better my life—I was forced to break up with ice cream (and hamburgers and goldfish and pizza…).

Like an emotionally abusive boyfriend, my relationship with these foods was hurting me—maybe even slowly killing me. I didn’t feel physical pain, and the havoc it was wreaking on my body, as well as the long-term damage it had the potential to cause, might have only been immediately obvious to a professional. But it was something that needed to be ended in order to save myself from future, more significant pain.

I’ve been forced to sever my relationships with these things I love, just like I had to let go of a romantic relationship because it was no longer healthy. Instead, I have to focus on filling my life with things that are good for and give back to me in a positive way—like spinach, and a man who calls back without 24 hours.

Life is too short, and sometimes made even shorter, by the decisions we make in our lives, both romantically and culinary. They are very different yet often equally as hard. And while there is room for the occasional bowl of ice cream (and summer fling), I have to keep my eyes on the prize—a healthy and happy me.

Although my heart is still a little lovesick (and my stomach still a little rumbly), I at least know it’s healthier now that I’ve broken up with things that are bad for me. Both food and men.