Pizza

Pizza was a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE fear food for me for so long. So huge and so much fear, in fact, that I was convinced that I didn't like it. Even the smell really did make me nauseous (although anxiety makes one nauseous too...) and I could not stand it. It started with the calories. Then the way it tasted when I would throw it up. And finally, just the anxiety itself made it so disgusting to me. I couldn't even think about eating it.

I'm not really sure how I brought pizza back into my life. I had veggie pizza three times during my residential and partial treatment at CEDC (although it was not served by the program any of the times - it was always out on pass). I had never eaten pizza with veggies before, actually. Maybe one veggie. But usually, I'd just get plain pizza - if any pizza at all, as far back as I can remember (aside from my extra cheese days as a child). Veggies made pizza seem a little more well-balanced though, and I was able to apply my nutrition education to it and feel okay about it.

After coming back to New York (where pizza is very different than it is in Boston!) I still refused to eat pizza, but a few weeks into my stepdown program at Renfrew, and my FIRST night in IOP (the day after my birthday, which was scary enough, going out for dinner and having dessert), we had pizza. There were 2 plain pies and one veggie pie. Classic NY pizza. We had to have a slice and a half, AND salad WITH DRESSING. And only one of our slices could be veggie. So I had a veggie slice and half a plain slice, and some salad. Lots of girls said that they were so used to bingeing on pizza, or eating more pizza than that. Others, like me, struggled with the pizza, having it be the first real pizza they've had in ages (since college graduation, for me). One girl (LOVE YOU <3) wasn't able to eat the pizza at all. But I got through it. I wasn't proud - I felt disgusting. But it was done, and it tasted pretty good.

My family eats pizza a lot. I came up with a solution. Our local pizza place has a basil slice - a crispy crust with a very tasty sauce with lots of garlic and basil, and no cheese. I'd get that a lot, loaded with veggies. Healthy, yes. Tasty, yes. Pizza, not really.

I've had tastes of pizza, was pressured into slices of pizza, and so forth, on various occasions. I won't lie. I've definitely had pizza before my defining pizza moment. But those slices of pizza in the past weren't independent choices. They were pressured. They were almost forced.

Then one day, in Grand Central Station after my psychiatrist appointment, I felt a craving for pizza. And, I went to the counter and got myself a slice. Just a plain slice, to go, to eat on the train. I did it. It was delicious.

This was a couple of months ago and I have eaten pizza a handful of times since then. I've been to trendy pizzerias and classic famous pizzerias bragging about the best pizza in the county. I've eaten NYC pizza, New Jersey pizza, suburban NY pizza, and homemade pizza. Saucy, cheesy, crispy, doughy, garlicky, basil-y, different everywhere.

And right now, I am about to go out for pizza with my family. And I'm excited for pizza. My therapist loves pizza and eats it at least once a week - never just one slice. My nutritionist loves pizza and eats it often too, as much as she wants, because she knows her body is not going to lie to her. They have both given me recommendations of good pizza places near my classes. I've resigned myself to the fact that I will be eating a lot of pizza this semester. And I will be enjoying it.