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" I gave up fast food because it was killing my spirit,\u00A0and probably my body too. Fast food used to be my crutch. Each time I&amp;#039;d receive disappointing news, get into the headspace of not being &amp;quot;good enough,&amp;quot; feel fat (ironic much?), or have a hangover, I would buy fast food. It was so easy. When I was younger, I had become idle in pursuing my passions, I was addicted to harmful romantic relationships, and completely detached from my body. I used to have a ritual of starting each Sunday like this: Brunch with my girlfriends,\u00A0which would turn into mimosas on the beach,\u00A0followed by a movie,\u00A0so we could take a nap. On my route home, feeling tired, hungry, and\u00A0sad, I would pass a McDonald&amp;#039;s, a Taco Bell and a Wendy&amp;#039;s, side by side. For a while my pattern was to go to Taco Bell and order a few different options. If I was in the mood for sugar I would also stop at McDonalds or Wendy&amp;#039;s for a shake. I would then drive home and eat\u00A0all\u00A0the stuff, half of it in the car. I ended each week laying in bed hating myself. My selective memory would recall how great my Sunday fast food gluttony felt when I was ordering, anticipating and eating, but I always forgot how\u00A0horrible\u00A0I felt that evening\u2013and the next day, and sometimes the day after that. I started to buy fast food any time I wasn&amp;#039;t feeling fabulous. And as my junk food frenzies increased, my moments of fabulosity dwindled. Oh, and I\u00A0also\u00A0began eating fast food as a reward for pretty much anything: &amp;quot;I finished work! There&amp;#039;s a McDonalds! Let&amp;#039;s celebrate!&amp;quot; Thirty minutes later: &amp;quot;I hate myself. And what is that greasy lump in my throat?&amp;quot; When my\u00A0fast food meltdowns were limited to Sundays I didn&amp;#039;t notice any dramatic health shifts; there was just some bloating on Monday. But when I transitioned into eating fast food five to six days a week, I\u00A0did\u00A0notice. I began realizing\u00A0that I wasn&amp;#039;t able to make it through my workouts because I had severe shortness of breath. I couldn&amp;#039;t concentrate. I lost motivation to do anything but drink alcohol and eat. My clothes were tighter.\u00A0And\u00A0I found a new blemish every morning.\u00A0I felt extra-horrible on days I\u00A0didn&amp;#039;t\u00A0eat fast food. I was addicted.  Never mind my health, I was worried about the thought of buying acne cream and clothes in a bigger size. Because I wasn&amp;#039;t familiar with the concept of moderation, I just quit\u00A0cold-turkey and\u00A0broke up with fast food \u2014 without the option of &amp;quot;just being friends.&amp;quot; It was a toxic relationship and I purposefully lost its number. It was awful. Without a coping mechanism for difficult emotions, I was stuck with all my mental (and physical and spiritual) muck. I was forced to feel through it all (no more numbing by eating) and I really didn&amp;#039;t like the person living underneath (or at least the circumstances of the person living there). Without the cushion of food I was desperate to find\u00A0anything\u00A0that made me feel good:\u00A0I began journaling, meditating (so hard), yoga-ing, reading\u00A0Women Who Run With the Wolves.\u00A0I broke up with alcohol, began drinking more\u00A0water, and cried a lot. This was my huge life shift. I came out of it feeling like a butterfly (at first, a\u00A0really, really hungry butterfly) that had learned to fly again. It&amp;#039;s been five years now since I turned away from my delicious poison. My break up with fast food has\u00A0woven hope and health (and so much willpower!) into the fiber of my life.\u00A0 "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/body/healthy-eating/a43609/i-quit-fast-food-eating/>