Amazon is the Devil
Any foodaholic can attest to the fact very little can stop a craving until it is satiated.
I for one can verify that on more than one occasion I’ve driven to a 7/11 in the dead of night for a snickers bar and I’m not ashamed to admit neither hell nor high water could stop me when the need for chocolate burned inside my cocoa-addicted anatomy.
Nothing less than a full-blown snow or ice emergency could keep me from the chocolaty goodness I sought, and although I later learned to satisfy my cravings in less caloric ways, the memory lingers.
I spent the last thirty years of my life wrestling with ways to address my food addiction and actually had a handle on curbing those binges that would leave me bloated and guilt ridden.
I earned my thirty year chip and although there were the occasional set backs along my road to recovery, I managed to find a level of moderation between my snickers intake and starvation diets.
My love for food and all things chocolate never changed but I had come to grips with the reality that my metabolism was born to be my greatest adversary and I had to exercise restraint in my daily eating patterns.
I felt quite certain I’d accomplished this achievement and hadn’t even ventured out at night to fulfill any cravings and then it happened. The mother of all horrible events in the life of a foodie, the pandemic hit.
And it had to be Chinese which meant like Chinese food I was hungry an hour later for 24 hours a day.
Locked up in the germ-free COVID-safe bosom of my home I could neither venture out (my children would have literally chained me to the sofa had I disregarded their orders) as I fought to find ways to deal with the lockdown, as we all did.
Let’s see, what will make me feel better about being a prisoner in my own home?
Jigsaw puzzles helped and of course Netflix came to the rescue of most of us with a non-stop array of new features to binge watch and chat about with friends.
Yet there was something lurking in the background, a voice sneaking into my conscience slowly and growing ever louder by the day.
Without the need to dress, wear make up or even dye my roots vanity took a back seat to finding ways to soothe the growing need to escape my bonds.
Yes I succumbed to those demons that had controlled my destiny in the past. That had brought me comfort and solace in times of sorrow and unhappiness or sheer frustration. But for the first time I didn’t have to venture out to seek what I craved, the devil delivered it to my door in the form of an Amazon delivery person.
This was something I never needed to know. This was a way to feed my addiction easily and constantly and I slipped.
Yes, I sold my soul for Hershey’s kisses. Oh the humanity!
I even discovered I could buy my favorite hot fudge online and ordered a giant coffee can full of the heavenly decadent favorite to luxuriate on my kitchen counter with a spoon kept nearby for frequent tastes and mood building moments when necessary.
And oh yes it became necessary more and more.
Having the luxury of Amazon was the best and worst thing that could happen to a foodie.
The true yin and yang of the calorically addicted for there in an instant I could place an order for all those foods I had fought to eliminate from my life forever and welcome them back to nurture and sooth my COVID-hating soul.
And they made it so damn easy. Jeff Bezos is the Devil. Just swipe and wait and someone shows up at your door with candy, cake and carbs enough to fatten a room full of anorexics.
For the first time in years I had candy dishes filled with M&Ms, a freezer full of Hagen Daz and homemade pies and breads with the aroma of heaven daily.
Seriously can anything cheer the spirit like the smell of apple pie or chocolate chip cookies or hot bread in the oven?
I think not which is why in between streaming television, jigsaw puzzles and a book or two my daily exercise consisted of walking back and forth to the kitchen to check what was in the oven.
I was in heaven. No waistlines, buttons or hair blowers to contend with. Like everyone else in America confined to their home I had only my next meal to look forward to, and watching the news did little to curb my need for food compensation.
Chocolate and I were a team again and I embraced the relationship. Like returning to the man who’d consistently broken your heart and you’d sworn off a million times only to run back when he summoned.
Twelve pounds later I came face to face with my worst enemy, the scale. At the doctor weighed and scolded I had to examine my life choices once more.
My doctor looked at me with that you-know-better grin and all I could say was, “but Amazon was there tempting me all day every day. Blame Bezos not me. They kept coming and bringing food and what could I do? After I ordered all those goodies I couldn’t very well throw them out, it wouldn’t be right. It was Amazon, damnit!
He looked at me as pathetically as I deserved and urged me to exercise and gain control.
I promised I would and I headed home to my kitchen to face the music.
There was the refrigerator filled with remnants of my lapse back into foodaholicism and I knew I had to deal and start over. I needed to mend fences with my now too-tight clothes and the double chin that taunted me in the mirror when I dared look.
It was time to fess up and fress (eat in Yiddish) less and pay my diet dues once more.
I now have a handle on my love handles and have managed to lose most of the weight.
I always reread my Amazon order before swiping and am gratefully out and about more so clothes and waistlines matter again.
I burned the contract for my soul I’d gladly signed with Amazon and now I’ve gained back control of the online relationship that had overtaken my life.
I still must take it a day at a time because after all Oreos always lurk on my iPod calling to me, but I just turn up the television and start a new binge watch.
Wouldn’t it be funny of it turned out the virus came from Amazon?
Hell who knows what virus Bezos might pick up on that upcoming moon flight.