I Tried to Eat Perfectly. Diet Culture Demanded It.

Recently, I shared how I used to be a chronic overeater and that I still sometimes eat until I’m uncomfortably full.

Thankfully, this doesn’t bother me much anymore as I’ve stopped trying to be a perfect eater. 

Things were much different when I was dieting. 

No Wiggle Room
I was devastated whenever I felt I messed up with my eating. There wasn’t any wiggle room or gray area. I was either eating right or I was eating wrong.

Diet culture, with its black-and-white, all-or-nothing approach, teaches us that to be successful, we must follow its rules and binaries perfectly. Wellness culture often does this, too.

Food is either good or bad, healthy or unhealthy, clean or toxic, fattening or slimming. 

You’re either on the wagon or off it. If you fall off, it’s your fault. 

Rather than blaming diet and wellness cultures’ unrealistic and unsustainable standards, you are blamed for not having enough willpower, discipline and self-control.

I certainly bought into all of this.

Thrived on Perfection
As someone with perfectionistic tendencies, I was especially susceptible to the gold-star behaviors diet and wellness cultures demand.  

I thrived on following the rules, doing it right, being good, earning a perfect score. 

I relished the sense of achievement I felt at bedtime when I thought I had eaten perfectly all day. 

I patted myself on the back for staying on track by eating the right food in the right amount at the right time. 

Naturally, I also loathed the sense of failure I felt when I believed I had eaten imperfectly. 

A “bad” choice would completely derail my day. My mood would turn dark, and I’d become preoccupied with how I would make up for it, which usually meant eating less and exercising more.

I took a lot of pride in being a good eater, a healthy eater, a disciplined eater—all traits our society puts on a pedestal. 

I thought eating perfectly made me a better person (another lie I regrettably believed).

In reality, it just made me miserable and intolerable to myself and those closest to me. 

While outsiders praised my eating, my loved ones had to deal with all the tiresome crap that came along with my rigid food rules and relentless pursuit to eat perfectly.

Permission to Be Human
In order to heal my disordered relationship with food, I needed to learn how to stop viewing it through the perfectionistic, black-and-white, good-or-bad lens I had been taught.

I also needed to relearn how to trust myself, my body’s internal cues and my instincts instead of following external sources and rules regarding the “right” way to eat.

When I threw away all the “eat this, not that” lists and started making eating decisions based on what tastes good and feels good in my body, I became a much more flexible, relaxed and peaceful eater.

Instead of striving to be perfect, I gave myself permission to be human, one who most of the time eats until they’re comfortably full and sometimes eats until they’re stuffed.

The Deeper Work
More than anything, I had to do the deeper work of understanding what drove my desire to achieve the perfect diet and the perfect body. 

To truly change, I had to examine the roots of my perfectionism and anti-fat bias, challenge our culture’s body ideals, and question what being healthy truly means.

None of this happened easily or quickly nor have I reached a final destination (I'm not sure there is one). It's an ongoing process but one that's so worth it.

I Have a Love-Hate Relationship with Food. How About You?

How would you describe your relationship with food?

When I ask people this question, one of the most frequent answers I get is “I have a love-hate relationship with food.”

Some other common responses include:

• Bad

• Complicated

• Obsessive

• Unhealthy

• Stressful

• Guilt-ridden

• Difficult

• Controlling

• All-or-nothing

• Out of control

• Compulsive

• Anxiety-filled

• Secretive

• Negative

• Judgmental

• Fearful

• Punitive

Do any of these descriptors resonate with you?

See It Differently Now
Many years ago, when I was restricting my eating in an effort to lose weight and “eat clean," I probably would have described my relationship with food as good, healthy, disciplined.  

As I was so entrenched in diet and wellness cultures, I couldn’t see how disordered my eating had become. I thought I was being good, doing the right thing. 

This belief was often reinforced by many of the people around me, who often praised my eating. I don’t blame them. We live in a culture that normalizes and celebrates disordered eating. 

Ironically, I also considered myself to be a passionate foodie even though I rarely ate anything that wasn't on my diet-approved list. Instead, I took a lot of joy in watching others consume the foods I was excited about.

Looking back now, I would describe my relationship with food as all-consuming, hypervigilant, calculated, rigid, black-and-white, moralistic, fraught, tense, isolating and utterly exhausting. 

I feel sad and regretful when I reflect on that time, and also incredibly grateful I got out of such a dysfunctional relationship.

Of course, some aspects of it were pleasurable, at least for brief moments until I reached the point of uncomfortable fullness (overeating is a natural response to food deprivation), and before my inner Food Police started shouting at me (“You ate so bad! You need to make up for it!”).

What Do You Want?
In addition to asking folks how they would describe their relationship with food, I also like to ask what type of relationship they would like to have.

Easy, guilt-free, peaceful, positive, pleasurable and neutral are just a few of the words that come to mind.

"I just want food to be food" is a common refrain.

When you reflect on this question, what comes up for you? 

And what’s standing in between where you are now and where you would like to be?

I Wanted to Stop Overeating. My Solution Was the Problem.

Not long ago, I came across some journaling I had written years prior.

One of my journal entries included a list of things I wanted to change about myself. At the top of my list was: stop overeating.

At the time, I was frustrated by how often I ate until I was stuffed. This mostly happened at dinner. I’d be “good” all day and then blow it at night. 

Repeatedly eating until I was uncomfortably full not only caused me physical discomfort but also a lot of emotional distress. Feeling the aching pain of my straining stomach as I washed dishes triggered feelings of anger, regret, guilt and shame.

My Solution Was the Problem
For the rest of the night, I’d beat myself up, endlessly ruminating on my lack of self-control.

Why couldn’t I get it together and stop overeating? What was wrong with me?!

As I got ready for bed, I’d promise myself I wouldn’t do it again and devise a plan to put an end to it, everything from using a smaller plate to forgoing seconds. 

However, because my plans were driven by my diet mentality, including my restrictive approach to eating, they failed to change anything. I’d still end almost every dinner uncomfortably full and disappointed in myself.

What I didn’t understand at the time was that my attempts to eat less were driving my need to eat more. My solution was the problem!

Unmet Needs
There are always very valid reasons why we do what we do with food. More often than not, we’re trying to take care of unmet needs. 

When I learned to be curious about what needs I was trying to fulfill when I continued to eat past comfortable fullness, things began to shift for me.

I came to understand that my tendency to override my fullness cues was primarily driven by my very human need for nourishment, satisfaction and pleasure.

1/ Need for Nourishment
Although I thought I was being “good” with my eating throughout the day, the reality was that I wasn’t eating enough out of fear of weight gain. 

My nighttime overeating wasn’t due to a lack of willpower or self-discipline. It was my very wise body’s attempt to get its nourishment needs met, to make up for my daytime deprivation and protect itself from future food scarcity, something it had come to expect.

I was stuck in an exhausting cycle of starting every morning with the intent to be "good"—that is, eat very little—to compensate for the amount I ate the night before. Of course, this plan always backfired come dinnertime.

2/ Need for Satisfaction and Pleasure
Because I was so focused on eating low-calorie and “clean,” I pretty much ate the same “safe” foods every day. While I didn’t dislike what I was eating, my rigid diet lacked variety, novelty and deeply satisfying, pleasurable foods.

Satisfaction and pleasure are essential components of the eating experience and when these are missing, it’s natural to seek more food, even if you’re not hungry. 

I wasn’t ignoring my fullness signals because I was out of control with my eating. I kept eating because, in addition to making up for my undereating throughout the day, my bored taste buds were desperately and unsuccessfully searching for the satisfaction and pleasure we humans are naturally wired to pursue.

As I started to fully nourish my body and enjoy a wider range of pleasurable, satisfying foods (including my once-forbidden foods), my chronic overeating eventually subsided. I no longer ate every dinner as if it was my Last Supper. 

Still Stuffed Sometimes
This doesn’t mean I never eat until I’m stuffed. I absolutely do! 

Normal eating includes sometimes eating past comfortable fullness. In fact, I just did it a few nights ago.

The difference is that now when I find myself uncomfortably full, I’m able to compassionately identify the needs I was trying to take care of rather than ruthlessly chastise myself.

The other night, I was really tired. It felt easier to keep eating my dinner than to muster up the energy required to get up from the table and clean the kitchen. By continuing to eat, I was preserving my energy and honoring my need for rest.

Sometimes, I keep eating because the meal is so delicious I don’t want the pleasure to end. This can be particularly true if, for whatever reason, I haven’t experienced much pleasure lately. In this case, I intentionally prioritize my need for pleasure and am okay with feeling some stomach discomfort.

Other times, I find myself eating when I'm no longer hungry to avoid wasting food. This usually happens when it seems like there’s not enough food remaining to warrant saving it for leftovers. 

I grew up in a clean-your-plate household with depression-era parents so understandably food was rarely wasted. Occasionally, my need to honor this deeply instilled value outweighs my physical comfort.

Tending to Your Needs
From undereating, food restrictions and a pleasure deficiency to fatigue, stress, busyness and distraction, there are many different reasons why you, like me, may find yourself eating past the point of comfortable fullness.

When you gain a better understanding of the unmet needs driving your overeating, you can put your attention toward tending to these needs instead of focusing on controlling your food as diet culture teaches us to do.

Thankfully, unlike the days when I wrote that journal entry, these days when I do experience the uncomfortable sensation of being stuffed, I don’t dwell on it.

Instead, I briefly reflect on the needs I was trying to take care of, make myself as comfortable as possible (e.g., put on loose clothes, go on a gentle walk, take an antacid, etc.) and then just move on.