Yes, you read the title correctly. Not Waste Management or Time Management, but Binge Management. An oxymoron. Binges are episodes of indulgence; if they were managed, they wouldn’t be called binges, would they?
Binge Management Step 1.
Get rid of the trigger food in my environment.
I am addicted to some foods, especially chocolate. Recently, I had the opportunity to try out a new low-fat dessert recipe which included a small amount of mini chocolate chips as one of the ingredients. I was excited to try something new, salivating at the thought of the chocolatey treat. Carefully measuring the chips, I knew I needed to discard the rest of the bag. Yes, it’s wasteful; however, my binge management system requires me to have my home environment be free of over-the-top addictive foods. Wasteful or not, I made the decision to do it—I tossed the rest of the chocolate chip bag into the depths of the trash can.
Binge Management Step 2.
Check that Binge Management Step 1 has been completed.
The rest of the bag of mini chocolate chips was safely disposed. Or was it? Moments after the gentle thud, the mini chips used their mini voices to call my name from the depths of the trash can. “Rescue me.” The whisper from the Waste Management system confirmed for me that the Binge Management mission was not yet complete. I needed to proceed to step 3.
Binge Management Step 3. Use only when necessary.
Remove the binge item from its current location and make sure it’s completely inedible.
I flipped up the trash can lid. Seeing the chocolate package, I went in. I found and removed the chocolate chip bag. This step was a dangerous one. I knew it could easily lead to the binge I’m avoiding. Time to make the chocolate inedible. Those chocolate chips were feisty; they required the Dirty Harry weapon of all time: Dish Soap. (music in background: dah dah dah duuuuuuhhh) A long time ago, I heard this suggestion which has forever been helpful in emergency situations like this one. Holding open the rescued bag of chocolate chips while attempting to avoid the decadent scent which already activated my salivary glands, I made my move. I poured the Dish Soap into the bag. This, I knew, was the only way I could quiet those cocoa morsels once and for all. This time, the bag was discarded with a thump.
At the dinner table later that evening, my children’s version of rationality changed the action adventure into more of a comedy. “Can you believe what Mom did? She poured dish soap into the bag of chocolate chips and then threw them away!”
I smiled and mentally blew across the muzzle of that smoking gun. Dish Soap is the 44 Magnum of my food addiction battle. I felt lucky.