Something has changed in my life. Something magnificent has happened to my eating habits. I can eat a meal, and upon finishing, I feel satisfied; my stomach feels perfectly normal. For as long as I can remember, eating large meals has been a bittersweet experience. You see, I suffer from an affliction called "Eat Until You Ache."

I have a severe lack of willpower when it comes to food. As I write this, my hand continues to reach into a bag of Lays Wavy potato chips, despite the fact that I am not hungry and am not entirely fond of potato chips in general. There has always seemed to be a particularly strong disconnect between my brain and my stomach. As of late, however, I've been devising various techniques to keep myself from cleaning my plate and ending up uncomfortably full.

When my stomach feels full, but my brain still tells me I'm hungry, I either have to take matters into my own hands, or make someone else take control. On a recent trip to London, I found myself in quite the curry-covered pickle in an Indian restaurant. My chicken tikka masala was just so irresistible that no matter how full my stomach was getting, I could not stop eating. (Pause in writing to consume two more unwanted potato chips.) Despite consistently repeating, "I don't want to finish this, I don't want to finish this," my fork kept dipping into the homogenized mix of rice, sauce and chicken chunks. Finally, I was forced to ask my boyfriend to pour some of his beer on my plate to keep me from finishing it, (another potato chip), which garnered angry remarks from my dining companions who would have happily finished my food. But my problem was solved: As much as I wanted to keep eating my food, beer-soaked chicken and curry did not exactly look appetizing to me.

Pouring a drink on my food is one of the most effective (another potato chip) ways to keep me from eating without my stomach's consent. Another is the tried and true "crumple-up-a-dirty-napkin-and-mush-it-into-the-food," or the "overturn-an-empty-plate-and-hide-my-food-from-sight" methods. But this last strategy isn't always as effective because beneath the overturned plate remains food that I know is perfectly intact and vulnerable to an unexpected attack from my fork. (My final chip, I promise; I throw the bag across the room. I reach my limit when I notice a greasy trail, resembling that of a slug, smeared by my knuckle on my glasses; I have just reached a new low.)

Sometimes my friends misunderstand my need to force myself to stop eating. A friend might offer me a cookie, which I want with every fiber of my being, but I know that I am not hungry and that eating one extra cookie might push me over my comfort limit. At this moment, I normally yell "No!" But really I'm yelling at myself, not the person generously offering me the treat.

But I think I've finally trained myself to stop eating without external aide. I don't know how or when it happened, exactly, but eating has actually become an enjoyable experience. If you suffer from Eat Until You Ache, take comfort in knowing that not only is it possible to cure yourself, but many people are aching right along with you. My cousin Jesse, for example, who, when asked how he overcame his EUYA, said he did it through sheer willpower. The character Miranda from Sex and the City is also seen taking extreme measures to keep from finishing a cake, first by throwing it in the garbage and then by pouring soap detergent on it. So, if you find yourself unable to say "no" to that tantalizing tortilla chip, consider yourself ranked among the best. Just throw some bleach on top and call it a day.