I sucked up the last bit of Coke through the soggy paper straw. My truck was parked at the back of a McDonald’s parking lot. I had just eaten a double quarter pounder with cheese, a large fries, and ten chicky nuggies with hot sauce. The cab of the vehicle smelled like a deep fryer.
The feelings of helplessness, despair, and shame were overwhelming. My binge eating was a train wreck that I couldn’t turn away from. There was no hope, no way out.
I was out of control.
I reached over and put the empty cup in the bag. Beside it was a Wendy’s bag and an Arby’s bag. My eyes started to sweat as I looked at the garbage on the passenger seat. I was a complete loser. I was garbage. I was full of fries and despair.
I had gone through all three drive-throughs in the last hour. I sat in three parking lots, ate their “food,” and still felt empty. Even though I had two roast beef sandwiches, two burgers, a large order of fries, and ten pieces of “chicken” meat in me, I was still empty.
I was fighting two things and losing the war. Emotions, and ultra-processed “food.” This wasn’t a battle I could win on my own.
Anorexia, bulimia, binge eating, and other eating disorders make life unbearable. We see celebrities struggling with these, and we write them off as fame problems. Meanwhile, it isn’t just the famous. A huge chunk of the population lives with one of these daily.
But I never really thought of it as a something guys dealt with. Our social programming is so strong that everyone, men and women, thinks only of how diet culture and eating disorders affect those identifying as female.
Of course, all human beings are susceptible.
That guy you know that can crush a bag of nachos, an entire pizza, and some ice cream, all in one sitting? That was me. Nobody questions it. No one says, “Buddy, I think you got a problem.”
One girl watched me eating with a hungry look. She told me, “You’re so lucky. You can eat whatever you want!” She looked like she was going to cry.
I bet she forced herself to stop at two olives and a rice cracker. She had food demons, too, but hers were the ones that starve you to try to fit into last year’s jeans.
Man, that’s the start of a downward spiral into a real bad place.
A young, healthy guy might be able to pull off binge eating for a while. But maybe his poor liver, pancreas, heart, and stomach are on the verge of collapse. Maybe he has an unrecognized problem that will lead to serious health consequences later.
Too bad it won’t make him famous.
I sat in three parking lots, ate their “food,” and still felt empty.
It’s all pointless. I can’t stop eating all this garbage. I’m helpless. I get these cravings, and there's nothing I can do.
I don't want to live.
Only a few months before, I was a runner. Maybe not in the best shape, but I could pound out an eight-mile jog. I maintained a steady weight even though I could crush a whole pizza by myself.
Then, a life bomb dropped, and one of the people closest to me ghosted me forever. It was our middle child, someone we loved more than life, and she ditched us on purpose. She quit her job, moved to an unknown place, got a new phone, and blocked everyone from her old life on social media.
My wife and I were devastated. We still are, but that’s for another day.
My poor little brain couldn’t deal with the pain of this betrayal. Without knowing what I was doing, I turned to food.
One junk food binge led to another. I was a closet eater who snuck three candy bars in the car. I ate tacos in parking lots so no one would know. I stopped at 7–11 to get a big bag of Doritos on the way home for supper.
All I could think about was how to feed that inner pig every time it squealed. So, even though I exercised regularly, the weight started creeping up.
My cardiovascular health went in the shitter, and I couldn’t run anymore. My back started hurting all the time.
One day, I stepped on the scale. I was shocked. I was forty pounds heavier than the last weigh-in. Forty! How could I have let this happen? More shame and guilt.
I hated my body. My pants didn’t fit. My gut stuck out. My face was fat.
I felt ugly and unlovable.
I started avoiding situations where my big belly would be visible. I wore a baggy sweater over my teeshirts and bought bigger, loose-fitting jeans.
I knew that I looked like a slob, and it hurt.
I thought everyone was judging me, especially women.
Every day, I planned to eat healthy. I started out in the morning with optimism and salad on my mind. But by mid-afternoon, the old lizard brain was on the prowl.
“You don’t have time to cook supper. Why not just stop and pick something up? You deserve a treat after the day you just had.”
I found myself again and again self-sabotaging my morning intentions. After eating mountains of pig slop like fries, burgers, potato chips, hot dogs, and gas station snacks, I was on the fast track to diabetes and heart disease.
I was at a crossroads that night in that McDonald’s parking lot. My problems seemed so big, and I was so small.
I sat there and wallowed in shame for at least five minutes. I could see there was a choice in front of me. I was scared.
I could keep going down this path, and keep cramming myself full.
Or, I could get help.
Because here’s the thing. I had been trying to fix my food issues for a long time on my own, and after 50 + years on Earth, I still couldn’t figure it out. Nothing I tried over the years worked for long.
The willpower method didn’t work. Counting calories and diets didn’t work. Running twenty miles a week didn’t work.
What I had never considered was that I was a victim. Carefully designed ultra-processed foods were hijacking my body and my brain. It wasn’t all my fault, but I felt like it was.
I put the truck in gear and drove away from McDonald’s. My choice was made. I didn’t know how, who, or what. But I was going to stop doing this. I was going to do something that made me feel good.
I went home and searched online for someone in my area who could help me escape this pit of despair.
This story will continue.
Wow. What a bold and vulnerable piece of writing! Agreed, we mostly associate eating disorders with women and girls. This story has me on the edge of my seat, I'm really looking forward to hearing more.
I'm so sorry you're going through this with your daughter. I don't know how it feels but my mother does. My older sister ghosted our family about 8 years ago and I can't imagine how it makes my mom feel. I do know how it feels to lose a child but not in the ghosting way.
Tim, this was realer than real. I admire your courage to tell this story and share so openly -- this is the kind of writing I'm striving to create. And you nailed it. There are a ton of men out there with eating disorders ranging from dysregulated eating to major mental health issues around food. Most men battling one of those issues hold them in a deep, dark area of their heart. Terrified for anyone to find out, unable to show the vulnerability required to seek help. I've managed to stay lean so far in my life (granted I'm 25) but have tangoed with absurd overeating on countless "cheat days." Creating a healthy, sustainable relationship with food is a battle that must be fought anew every day.
Thanks for doing this work. I'm psyched to have discovered your writing and will be back for more!