Good versus Happy

Seriously, are there individuals out there who only eat when their bodies tell them they need nourishment? If so, they've got to be few in number.
Each day I have an inner battle with myself over the ridiculous subject of eating. I cannot number the times I have resolved to eat "healthy" or be "in control" for the day. And, of course, I have abandoned that goal by about 10 a.m. I proudly declare that on rare occasions I have made it to as late as 7 p.m. But who can ignore that urge for popcorn or ice cream after 7 p.m.?
When I was young, around 18, I had a killer metabolism which allowed for binges of candy bars and pizza at midnight with absolutely no consequences, at least on the poundage front. Sometime between those fond days and now, decades later, that metabolism slowly disappeared until I have arrived at the point when even a thought of those goodies can add a pound or two, which are then impossible to get rid of. Isn't it hard enough to watch one's face become wrinkled, one's body submit to gravity in a saggy mess, and countless aches and pains emerge? Why couldn't us middle-aged souls enjoy a life of indulgence when it comes to food, when it could bring such comfort and could help in our acceptance of all these ailments? If and when I have a say in creation, this may be one of my top priorities.
As for today, I am doing very well--it is 8:14 a.m. and I am still on track for being "good".