It's all in my head: "I'm fully aware that most eating habits are the psychological equivalent of a giant burrito, rolled up and stuffed with a crazy salad of emotions." - WeightLossDiary

Shape, March, 2004 by Jacqui Stafford

I've lost 13 pounds in two months. When I step onto the scale, I can hardly believe it. "But I'm constantly eating," I say in amazement.

And eating is what seems to be doing the trick. I'm losing weight eating breakfast, lunch, a snack and dinner. For the first time ever, I'm making a conscious effort to eat every four hours rather than starve myself.

"I want to take the fear out of food for you," Suki Hertz, M.S., R.D., my nutritionist, tells me. She suggests I keep myself supplied with nutritious foods like nuts, fruit, granola, yogurt and turkey slices. My first reaction is abject horror at the thought of a full refrigerator within arm's reach.

That seems to be my problem. I'm petrified of food. Eating one innocent cookie is liable to start a tumble into binge territory, so my editor suggests seeing a psychologist to help me delve into my food issues.

I'm fully aware that most eating habits are the psychological equivalent of a giant burrito stuffed with a crazy salad of emotions. Figuring out why I have this love/hate relationship with food is going to be riveting.

Psychologist, Psychoanalyst reads Jean Petrucelli's business card. She's a Ph.D. and co-founder/co-director of the Eating Disorders, Compulsions and Addictions Service at the William Alanson White Institute in New York City.

"Start by telling me about yourself and your history," she says. "Then, we'll talk about your eating history."

I babble on about my all-consuming job, my crazy social life and my love life. I tell her about my boot-camp workout sessions with my trainer, Keith Veri. "I want results right now. I hate having to be patient," I say.

"It seems like you're used to getting what you want immediately," Petrucelli responds. "That affects your relationship with food, you know." No, I didn't know.

"I'd like you to keep a detailed food diary about your emotions," she says firmly. "Write down the time you eat and your emotions at that moment to help you become aware of what you're eating and why."

Day 1 of the emotions journal doesn't bode particularly well. Starbucks grande skim-milk cappuccino, half a banana, small seafood salad and a Clif Bar. I don't note any emotions (because I don't really feel any in particular) or the time (because I completely forget). Besides, I'm late for a friend's birthday party.

Since I can't feasibly whip out my diary while at the party, I fill in the entry later that night: Family-sized bag of chips dipped in guacamole, 15 cubes of cheese, several glasses of red wine, one giant slice of butter pecan pie, one slice of raspberry cheesecake, two cupcakes.

The brutal honesty of writing down everything I consumed mortifies me. Party, I write. Tons of yummy food, as if by way of a rational explanation.

I stare at the page, waiting to be filled with meaningful emotional insights. Couldn't seem to stop is the best I can come up with. Feeling guilty that I'm not in touch with my emotions, I resolve to make more of an effort tomorrow.

I think I'm going to be one of Petrucelli's--how shall I put it?--more challenging patients.

RELATED ARTICLE: WHAT I LEARNED

1. Writing down everything you eat opens your eyes to what you're really consuming every day.

2. Don't eat while watching television; it can only lead to mindless munching.

3. Try not to beat yourself up if you make some poor choices. Remember that you are in control, and get back on track as soon as you can.