Control Freak

By Melinda Blackman, PhD, Fullerton, California

As appeared in

That September afternoon I was in my lab going over research topics with grad students I supervise at Cal State-Fullerton.

I’m a psychology professor, and since my area of expertise is industrial/organizational psychology, the ideas focused on people’s behavior in the workplace. But I wanted my students to be open to other possibilities.

“Is there some aspect of human behavior you’ve been wanting to understand?” I said. “Psychology can be applied to any problem to find a solution.”

Wait a minute. Was that reminder for my students or myself? Because there was definitely a problem I wanted to find a solution for. My weight.

Actually, the extra 30 pounds I carried was just a symptom. My real problem was overeating—compulsive snacking, to be more precise. I never thought this was something I’d have to deal with. Most of my life, people teased me about being too skinny.

In high school my parents made me drink weight-gain shakes. I even used to joke with my sister, “One day I’ll write a book about how to stay thin.”

Keeping eating under control didn’t seem like a big deal—I ate because my body and brain needed fuel to function, but I didn’t even like food that much.

That all changed after my husband, David, and I had kids. I wasn’t just a professor with a full load of teaching and research. I was a full-time mother too, with two young children. And I helped with our women’s ministry at church.

Even with the system I’d worked out—a calendar where I meticulously wrote in every chore, sports practice, school function, class, church meeting—staying on top of everything was draining.

My energy level crashed in the late afternoon. The time of day when my kids, 9-year-old Grace and 5-year-old Jack, had been home from school long enough to get restless, and I still had a ton of things to cross off my to-do list before David got back from work. So I’d put out snacks to keep the kids occupied and I’d grab some for myself. A few cookies, a handful of chips or cheese crackers, just enough to keep me going.

That was how my snacking started, with a little here and there. Before long, I was reaching for those pick-me-ups constantly, depending on them to give me a boost and sustain me through all my to-dos.

I found myself eager for my daily snacks—me, who never used to like food!—craving the taste of them, especially my favorite, buttercream cake frosting. Just yesterday I’d polished off a jar. That’s right—a jar. I couldn’t keep track of how many times I dunked my spoon into that rich, sugary frosting while I was doing the dishes, putting the kids’ toys away, letting the dog out. It was like my hands had a mind of their own. I couldn’t stop.