How to Find out if You’re a Restaurantaholic

Do you hate the chore of cooking? When you cook your favorite food, does it taste like garbage? After eating your own cooking, do you still feel empty or unsatisfied? If you answered, “yes” to the above questions, then, like me, you could be a restaurantaholic. Restaurantholism isn’t always easy to recognize, and could become an addition or a financial burden.
I first knew I had a problem when I began selecting restaurants to complement my moods. For example, if I’m in the mood for fun, I enjoy a get together with some friends for a pizza or some wings. If I’m in a romantic mood, I like a quiet candlelit dinner with soft music. I usually go to a Chinese buffet or smorgasbord when I feel confused, or have a lot on my mind. When I’m not sure what mood I’m in, I stick to the basics and go visit old friends like Sonny or the Colonel. For a pat on the back for a job well done, my favorite reward is a piece of pie or hot fudge sundae.
Financially Restaurantholism can be a problem! Many times, I crave a thick juicy steak when the budget only calls for a burger. Imagine how dreadful it is to eat a taco from fast food restaurant when it’s a sit down dinner at my local upscale Mexican restaurant I’m yearning for. I often find myself in a better mood than I can afford; however, if my mood it too good for mediocrity, there’s always the Visa or Master Card. I rely on the charge method when I’m out of control, as a last resort. The bill can be a shock at the end of the month, which puts me into a frenzy that can only be resolved by doughnuts.
Restaurantholism becomes a real problem when I can’t think of excuse to dine out. Sometimes it takes three to four hours to think of something to reward myself for. Another problem, do I want to eat alone or with a friend? It’s so hard finding someone that’s on the same mood food level I am. Such decisions make Restaurantholism frustrating. The financial frenzy mentioned earlier can be depressing. During frenzy, I put the side effect of a six-pack of doughnuts out of my mind, to worry about later, for example the next morning while dressing. There’s nothing more frustrating than trying to find a good restaurant while in a good mood and having to worry about counting calories at the same time.
Something has to be done about the serious social illness of Restaurantholism. I would like to form a support group where people with my problem could get together. It would give us a chance to discuss our frustrations, and work out our problems. We could call it Restaurantaholic’s Anonymous; perhaps we could all meet for dinnersounds like fun to me.

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