Bulimia: A viable alternative

I am seriously considering turning to bulimia.

I can't help but wonder whether, as in ancient Rome, trips to the vomitorium post feast is the answer to my current dilemna. My problem stems from my frenetic love of food and results in my ongoing expansion in all directions except up.

I love food. Passionately and obsessively. I am not one of those girls who say they love food and then order the edamame beans and miso soup. I'm one of those girls who look at a menu and want everything on it. Genuinely. I wake up on a Sunday morning and the first thing that crosses my mind is Burger King. I don't stop eating because I'm full, I stop eating because the level of consumption is becoming embarrassing and people around me are beginning to look horrified. I experience a profound, deep sense of contentment right at the start of a meal, when I'm surrounded by food and the end is not yet in sight. If there's a glass of wine in my hand at this point I have been known, fairly often, to say aloud “I'm so happy right now.” And I mean it. This is my moment of absolute bliss.

Bangkok has declared war on my olfactory system. Each street is a battlefield where my palette exists in a perpetual state of torment and my will is part of an ongoing defensive mission. My nose is constantly assaulted by pungent whiffs of sizzling chilli and ginger, the arousing aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the sweet decadent scent of frying donuts... 7/11s can be found covertly lurking on every corner. Sneaky seducers that they are, they entice me in with toasted sandwiches that send my salivary glands into overdrive and then seal the deal with chocolates, chips, baked goods, nuts, cookies, the list is endless, really. Large chunks of my days are spent formulating and polishing strategies to avoid the all you can eat buffets which exist in alarming abundance in this city.

My will is losing this battle. If I'm honest, it's turning into a bit of a bloodbath.

There is a possibility that my journey will mimic that of Liz Gilbert in “Eat, Pray, Love.” After my stint in Thailand, I will go somewhere and succeed in losing all these gained kilograms in a frightfully easy way and will then go on to virtually trip over the love of my life... But chances are slim, let's face the facts here. Weight in real life is harder to shake and finding true love is seldom that convenient.

It seems the “pros” side of this tabulation is heavily weighted in favour of the vomitorium.