I Agonized Over Every Food Decision

Recently, I was reflecting on a cough drop conundrum I experienced many years ago.

I had a nasty cold and was kneeling on the floor of my neighborhood pharmacy analyzing the back of the cough drop packages to determine which one had the highest-quality ingredients and lowest amount of sugar. 

Despite it being a holistic pharmacy, none of their cough drops perfectly met my criteria so I dragged myself a few blocks uphill to check out the offerings at a more mainstream pharmacy. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t have what I wanted either.

I wasted hours that day going to multiple stores in search of the “healthiest” cough drops—time that would have been far better spent resting in bed.

Hyper-Fixated on Quality
When I was entrenched in diet and wellness cultures, not only was I obsessed with the number of calories I ate, I was also hyper-fixated on the quality of the food I consumed.

While I had long been interested in healthy eating, it wasn't until I began training to become a health coach that my interest in healthy eating escalated to a point where I agonized over the purity of nearly every single morsel I put in my mouth.

Agonized Over Every Decision
My cough drop incident stands out to me as it epitomizes how extreme my behavior had become.

At the time, however, I couldn’t see it. 

Preoccupied with eating perfectly, I couldn’t see how disordered my relationship with food was and how it was impacting my overall wellbeing, including how overwhelmed I was by everyday decisions. 

Should I buy the local cow-milk yogurt or the mass-produced soy yogurt? 

Should I get the expensive gluten-free bread from the freezer section or the cheaper whole-wheat bread fresh from the bakery in town? 

Should I go for the wilting bunch of locally grown kale or the perkier kale that was packaged in a plastic bag and shipped from another country?

From green juices and protein bars to hummus and spaghetti sauce, I’d take so much time scrutinizing every label and sweating every detail that my boyfriend refused to go shopping with me. 

More Rules and Restrictions
My obsession with eating clean and maintaining my reputation as a healthy eater added another layer of rules and restrictions on top of the already long list of food rules I followed in an attempt to shrink my body. 

I’d snub my nose at salmon that wasn’t wild, apples that weren't farm fresh, and tomatoes that were out of season.

If an almond butter had added oils or sugar, it stayed on the shelf. I wouldn’t touch strawberries that weren’t organic. I turned my back on anything made with refined flour.

Most regrettably, I shunned family favorites and food traditions if they contained “bad” ingredients.

Harming My Health
While I didn’t know it at the time, I was struggling with orthorexia—an unhealthy obsession with healthy eating.

I believed my high standards and food rules were improving my wellbeing when they were actually harming my physical, mental, emotional and social health. 

Naturally, my rigid rules turned me into a rigid person.

As more and more foods became demonized and off-limits, eating in an environment where I wouldn’t have control of my options became extremely difficult. 

I feared going to restaurants and dinner parties. Work lunches, happy hours, birthday celebrations and wedding receptions caused me anxiety. Traveling to new locales became stressful. 

I was no longer the flexible, spontaneous and carefree eater I used to be.

Instead, I was wasting an inordinate amount of time, energy, money and headspace doing what our diet and wellness cultures told me was the healthy, correct thing to do.

Healthy Relationship with Food
Thankfully, with the help of some wise guides, I was finally able to see how disordered my relationship with food had become. 

I came to understand that healthy eating, first and foremost, means having a healthy relationship with food.

To me, that means one that’s easygoing, flexible, balanced, satisfying, peaceful and intuitive.

Of course, while I no longer have food rules, I still have some food preferences.

However, I no longer stress out or feel guilty if I’m unable to eat exactly what I want. I just eat and move on. 

And, wow, has this made my eating—and my life—so much easier and so much more enjoyable.

If you relate to any of my story, I encourage you to seek support from a anti-diet, weight-neutral practitioner, whether it’s a therapist, nutritionist, coach or counselor. I'm here for you if need me.

Why I Couldn't Stop Eating the Crappy Cake

Years ago, I was at a friend’s bridal shower. At the end of the party, the host was desperate for all the guests to take some of the leftover cake.

It was one of those super tall cakes—an impressive feat of multiple layers of dark chocolate cake sandwich between chocolate buttercream frosting and topped with giant shards of dark chocolate.

“Everyone, please, please take some cake,” the host begged. “I can’t be trusted to have all of this cake in my house. I'm afraid I’ll lose control and eat it all!

I offered to take a few big slabs home to give to my boyfriend. Although, secretly, I was really looking forward to eating the cake myself.

You see, despite longing for the cake at the party, I didn’t eat any because I was being “good” and didn’t want to tarnish my “healthy eater” image.

Once I Started, I Couldn't Stop
I honestly don’t remember if my boyfriend ate any of the cake; if he did, it wasn’t much.

What I do remember, however, is standing alone at my kitchen counter in the dark later that night, my mouth salivating as I pulled the plastic wrap off the cake.

As I dug my fork into the cake, my body buzzed with excitement. Cake was a rarity in my "clean eating" days, so I was understandably very excited to eat it.

Sadly, it didn’t live up to my expectations. The frosting was overwhelmingly sweet and the cake was flavorless and dry.

Nonetheless, I continued to eat it all, my pace quickening as I did.

I thought, “What the hell, I might as well polish this off as I'm not going to let myself eat cake again for a very long time.”

After licking the last bit of frosting off my fork and the plastic wrap, I was angry with myself for eating so much cake, especially since it wasn’t very good. “What a waste of calories!” the Food Police voices yelled in my head.

I was mad that I didn’t have enough self-discipline to toss the cake after discovering it didn’t taste satisfying.

I couldn’t understand why I kept eating it and blamed it on my lack of self-control. I deeply regretted bringing the cake home.

Natural Response to Deprivation
Looking back now, I can so clearly understand why I kept eating that crappy cake.

When we let ourselves have what is typically forbidden and scarce, it’s only natural to eat a whole lot of it, to maybe even feel binge-y with it, even if it's not satisfying.

Understandably, my very wise brain believed, “I need to eat all of this cake now, no matter what, because I don’t know when I’m going to get cake again!”

Of course, this didn’t just happen this one time. It frequently happened with my other off-limits foods.

My all-or-nothing approach to eating made me feel out-of-control, guilty and ashamed. And, it provided false evidence that I couldn’t be trusted with food and needed to pull the reins in tighter.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. It was simply a very natural human response to deprivation and scarcity.

Crappy cake felt better than no cake at all.