Location, location, location...

As I work at dealing with my emotional and psychological issues as pertains to my relationship with food, I am realizing that I have some real handicaps.  For one, I was born in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. This is like being a cocaine addict growing up in Bogota, Columbia.

Montreal is the the foodaholic equivalent of Rotterdam harbour to an 18th-century sailor - debauchery at every corner and down each alley.  Come to think of it,

The broccoli drowning and other crimes of passion.

They say that love cures all that ails you, but what if love is your disease?

I have had so many interesting (and some not so interesting) conversations with people over the past weeks regarding my ongoing story.  There is one discussion that keeps coming back...coincidentally, usually started by skinny people.  Why do you eat so much?  Why can't you just stop when you are full?  It's easy...just don't eat unless you are hungry...

Ahhh...so simple.  Well, here's a lesson in psychology for you people that I hate but am trying to become. 

Food never says no.
"Hey sweet stuff - feel like a little action?" Chris says to the eggs.
No reply.
"Good...egg yolks meet sugar, sugar meet egg yolks.  I'm going to beat you over a bain-marie and you are going to like it...."

Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever. -Lance Armstrong

 I thought the quote was a relevant title as we watch the flame of Lance Armstrong's professional cycling career extinguish itself live on TV during the Tour de France this week.  Here is a man who overcame testicular cancer that had spread to his lungs and brains, only to do the impossible and win the Tour de France 7 times.  For those of you not familiar with the sport of cycling,

PART 2 - Bury me in the stockings please.

I get up from the bed slowly and do my best impression of Bambi on the ice rink...or a new-born giraffe.  Two tiny nurses run over with sheer terror in their eyes and catch me before I fall flat on my face.  They put me in a lazyboy and tell me to wait for a while before trying to get up again.

This time I manage to

PART I - Ready to meet my destiny in thigh-high stockings...

There  I stood, ready to meet my destiny.  Naked save for a pair of white, thigh-high stockings and a hospital jacket.  "Right this way Mr. Sapienza," says my pre-op nurse Toni.   Feeling like a cheap transvestite I make my way to the operating room...

The last night...I gave in.

Food = love, food = nurturing, food = reward, food = consolation, food = company, food = entertainment, food = celebration, food = punishment...   It is a long road to food = sustenance, food = fuel.

My last night before surgery...made it 2 weeks on a liquid diet and decided that tonight I would eat

My name is Chris, and I'm a foodaholic...

It's been 11 days since I last masticated a morsel of anything other than broccoli, cauliflower or lettuce.  Not a drop of wine or beer, not 1 smidgen of bread nor a single penne rigate...

Vincit qui se vincit

He conquers, who conquers himself

I chose this title as it is the perfect description of what I am about to go through.  On July 12th, 2010, a bariatric surgeon will install a device in my body to help me take control of my weight, my health, my well-being and ultimately, my future.  I am resolved to make the next 25 years of my life very different than the last 25 years, but in order to do so I cannot rely on Dr. Garneau's technique alone.  I have some demon chasing and closet cleaning to do,