I’ve battled the bulge my whole life. Even in childhood photos I was the “pleasantly plump” one, but once I reached high school, plump wasn’t pleasant.

Before college, I dreaded gaining the “freshman 15” but fell in line with the averages, finding those 15 and a few more. Transferring schools the next year must have given me unconscious permission to do it again, because I found another 15 at my new college.

Senior year I got serious about my eating habits, trying one fad diet after another: grapefruit and eggs, meat only, cabbage soup. Then came food-substitutes in the form of drinks, cookies and frozen bars. And when I got desperate, there was fasting.

But each diet was just a stepping stone to binging, because all that deprivation led to craving comfort. And what better comfort than food? The lost pounds always came piling back, and by graduation, 200 pounds was in my not-too-distant future.

I thought about food non-stop, what I should or shouldn’t eat, how long since I last ate, when I could eat next, what I would eat that I shouldn’t, and on and on the mental dialog raged.

Marriage and seven babies didn’t help. After each pregnancy and birth, stress-eating packed on another 10 pounds during the baby’s first year.

Eventually it was, “Welcome to menopause,” when a woman’s hormones go through a second adolescence, but backwards. It’s fruit-basket-upset time, and nothing that worked before, worked then.

Sometimes I think about Eve (of Adam-and-Eve fame). When God put them in his garden, food was abundant, and they ate as much as they wanted. They’d never tasted Krispy Kremes, biscuit gravy or Snickers bars and had unspoiled natural appetites for the fruits and veggies around them.

God gave them taste buds, a sense of smell, and eyes to appreciate the food available to them. They probably oooh-ed and ahhh-ed as they discovered the tartness of a pineapple, the scent of a strawberry and the green of a kiwi. The fact that eating was made to be a thrill for the senses was God’s special gift to us, although it came with the caution to be self-controlled.

But anything good can be made bad by taking it to an extreme. We can spend too much time, money, energy and focus on behavior not meant to dominate us. It isn’t God’s fault. We’re the ones who turn blessings into curses.

Although I’m thinner now than in past years, it’s probably a byproduct of Nate’s absence. Because he’s not coming home to share dinner as he used to, I don’t cook much. Even so, I still play endless mental games with food and must repeatedly submit to God’s headship in this area. None of it is easy.

For all of us who have to wage war against appetites that are difficult to control, serenity will one day come. God will defy the odds and make all things good again, including our appetites. And from what I hear, the all-you-can-eat heavenly banquet table is going to be absolutely sumptuous!

“All a man’s labor is for his mouth, and yet the appetite is not satisfied.” (Ecclesiastes 6:7)