I Was Fixated on Food. I Thought I Was Just a Foodie.

Are you old enough to remember Gourmet magazine?
 
I was devastated when it shut down. 

I still recall where I was when I heard the magazine was closing. I was trekking in Nepal and met another traveler from the United States. As we were ambling along the trail, she shared the crushing news. 

I didn’t believe her at first. I thought it was a terrible rumor. 

I was shocked that such a beloved cultural icon with a rich 68-year-old history could shutter so abruptly.

My Entire World
I was devastated because I relished the magazine. It was such a special thrill to find it in my mailbox once a month nestled among the utility bills and grocery store ads.

It was also a bigger deal to me than one might expect, as food, including food media, was pretty much my entire world back then.

I spent hours devouring food magazines, websites, blogs, newsletters, books and TV shows. I read restaurant menus online and crawled into bed at night with cookbooks.

My work breaks and evenings were spent immersed in a clunky online message board reading fervent posts by food fanatics about who had the best burrito, brownie or bread in the Bay Area.

If Instagram existed back then, I’m sure many hours would have melted away as I scrolled through every food-related account.

I was infatuated with food. It was my primary focus. I thought it was because I was a foodie.

Understanding My Fixation
It wasn’t until years later that I came to fully understand my fixation. 

It was because I was hungry.

My thoughts were consumed by food because I wasn’t consuming enough food.

I was constantly thinking about food because my very wise body was trying to get me to eat more food. Low on energy due to dieting, it was attempting to get the fuel it desperately needed to survive.

Learning about the Ancel Key’s Minnesota Starvation Experiment (CW: calorie counts, disordered eating, photos) helped me see how my undereating drove many of my behaviors during this time, including my food fixation.

The experiment's objective was to study the physical and mental effects of starvation during World War II and postwar refeeding practices. Thirty-six young healthy men, all conscientious objectors, volunteered to be subjected to a calorie-restricted diet for six months.

One of the outcomes was the men became preoccupied with food, including constantly talking about it, dreaming about it, reading cookbooks and collecting recipes. 

By the time the study was completed in 1945, one participant owned more than 100 cookbooks.

Describing his fixation with food, another participant shared that “…it made food the most important thing in one's life…food became the one central and only thing really in one's life. And life is pretty dull if that's the only thing. I mean, if you went to a movie, you weren't particularly interested in the love scenes, but you noticed every time they ate and what they ate.”

Related to Their Experience
While my weight-loss intention was quite different (to look good*) than those of the men who participated in the study (to do good), we experienced many of the same food deprivation symptoms.

Not only had I become hyper-focused on food, like many of the study subjects I also found myself guarding my food, sneaking food, engaging in hunger-suppressing strategies, bingeing on food, feeling irritable, anxious, depressed and fatigued, becoming socially isolated and more.

And, like a few of the men in the study, I even got a job in the food industry. I became the marketing manager for a food website with a slick test kitchen. Sadly, I never ate a bite of any of the delicious food prepared in it as it wasn’t allowed on my diet.

Although in no way was my intentional deprivation from dieting comparable to the heartbreaking chronic hunger, starvation and malnourishment experienced by millions of people around the world, I can relate to so many of the things the food-deprived men in the study experienced. Maybe you can, too.

More Calories Than a Diet
It’s important to understand that the daily number of calories the men were fed during the study's “starvation” phase was similar to what most diet programs prescribe today.

While they were considered semistarved, the participants were likely eating more calories than many of us have been instructed to eat on some diets. 

It seems beyond unethical that diet companies have known for more than 75 years about the numerous physical and psychological harms their programs can cause yet they continue to offer them while intentionally neglecting to warn their customers of their potential adverse side effects. 

If they truly valued people’s wellbeing over their bottom line (ha!), this information would be made available so folks could make fully informed decisions.

Stopped the Fixation
As I started divesting from diet culture, giving myself unconditional permission to eat and fully nourishing my body, I stopped fixating on food. 

While the foodie in me still enjoys exploring different food cultures, reading an occasional food article, tuning into some food podcasts and shows, and experimenting with a new recipe now and then, my interest is nowhere near the level of obsession it was when I was dieting, which frees up a ton of time and energy for a variety of other pursuits.

Of course, not everyone who is obsessed with food and everything related to it is dieting, undereating or engaging in other disordered eating behaviors. People are passionate about food and really into food-related content for all sorts of reasons. 

Thankfully, my personal interest in food these days is because I find it fun, pleasurable, comforting, compelling, connecting and nourishing.

And if Gourmet magazine happens to be resurrected someday, I’d likely be quick to renew my subscription.

*I deeply regret that I had a lot of unexamined anti-fat bias at the time due to decades of social conditioning that taught me there was only one right way to have a body (i.e., the thin ideal) and warped my idea of what it meant to “look good.”

I Can't Keep Chips in My House. I Always Lose Control.

Do you have any trigger foods?
 
Are you afraid to keep certain foods in your house because you feel like you lose control with them every time you eat them? 

There is a very valid reason why some foods feel triggering.

Restriction.

If you’re like most people, your trigger foods are triggering because you are restricting them.

This was certainly the case for me when I was restricting food and following a bunch of food rules.

Natural Scarcity Response 
Potato chips are a common trigger food, so let’s use them as an example.

Let’s say you love potato chips but you rarely let yourself eat them because you consider them to be a “bad” food and every time you do allow yourself to have them, you feel completely out of control with them.

When you do break down and buy a bag, you can’t stop thinking about them sitting in your cupboard and you keep returning to the kitchen all afternoon for more until the last salty crumbs are licked off your fingers. Once the bag is gone and you’re full of chips and guilt, you decide the safest thing to do is to not eat them at all. 

“I can’t be trusted to have potato chips in my house! I’m never eating them again!” you proclaim to your friends who can all totally relate because, thanks to diet culture, they have trigger foods too.

But here’s the thing: 

When you don’t let yourself eat potato chips on a regular basis, you create a sense of scarcity and deprivation with them. 

The natural human response to scarcity and deprivation is to consume as much as possible of your restricted food when you do allow yourself to eat it. 

Basically, your very wise brain is thinking “I never get potato chips therefore I must eat as much as I can right now because I don’t know if I’ll ever have access to them again.”

On top of this, if you’re telling yourself while you’re eating the chips that you shouldn’t be eating them and won’t let yourself eat them again, you are amplifying the threat of scarcity and deprivation, which will further drive you to eat as much as you can right away. 

Unconditional Permission to Eat
If you want to stop feeling out of control with potato chips, you need to give yourself unconditional permission to eat all the potato chips you want whenever you want. 

This means stocking your kitchen with potato chips and freely eating them with meals, between meals, at breakfast, for dessert, however you desire.

This continuous exposure to your trigger food leads to habituation. 

The more you eat potato chips, the more you habituate to them. 

In time, their reward value and power over you will diminish and they will become ordinary and neutral—basically, no big deal.

The goal of habituation isn’t to no longer want your trigger foods, but rather to create a trusting, satisfying and peaceful relationship with them, one that’s free of fear, guilt and shame. 

Understandably Feels Scary
Giving yourself unconditional permission to eat your trigger foods can, understandably, feel pretty scary. 

It’s so helpful to understand that it’s completely normal to eat a lot of your trigger foods in the beginning of the habituation process because your brain is still operating in scarcity mode. It will take time for it to calm down and trust that it will have regular access to previously restricted foods.

This phase of making peace with food freaks a lot of people out, which is why it can be so helpful to get support, whether it’s from an Intuitive Eating counselor, coach, therapist or online community.

When working with my clients, we talk about various strategies that can help them with the habituation process so it doesn’t feel so overwhelming and send them running back to the land of restriction.

Once my clients start habituating to their trigger foods, they start to see that, despite what diet culture wants them to believe, they can trust themselves with any food, regardless of their history with it. Feeling this sense of trust and freedom with food is profoundly liberating.

Here's what my client Jenny had to say about her experience: 

"One of my biggest wins has been being able to have all types of food in my house. Before, I couldn’t have any sweets or baked goods at home otherwise I would just eat them all in one sitting. Having that stuff in my house and not bingeing on it has been a huge positive change. The day I started forgetting it was there was a big day!"

While Everyone Was Dancing, I Was Sneaking Chocolate Truffles

While cleaning out a file drawer, I came across a document I created many years ago when I was dieting. It was a recording of my weight.

Seeing those numbers caused me to pause and reflect on the person I was when I was entrenched in diet culture.

It was not a pretty picture.

Although I couldn’t see it then, my obsession with dieting and weight loss turned me into someone I really didn't like.

My efforts to become more likable made me completely unlikeable.

At the time, however, I thought I was hot stuff. I walked around with an air of superiority because I believed I had cracked the code. I had finally achieved what so many others struggle to do: I lost weight.

But that wasn’t the only thing I lost.

I also lost touch with myself, my body, my values and what truly mattered.

Addicted to Weight Loss
When people complimented me on my smaller size, little did they know they were rewarding me for having a pretty disordered relationship with food, exercise and my body.

Unbeknownst to them, their praise encouraged me to pull the reins in tighter, to eat even less and exercise even more.

My original goal weight was no longer enough.

I had become addicted to losing weight and the admiration I was receiving. I didn’t want my high to end so I kept moving my target weight lower and lower.

Withdrew from the World
The more obsessed I became with micromanaging every morsel I ate and every mile I ran, the more I withdrew from the world.

I started stressing out about social events. My food and exercise rules made socializing, especially over food, very difficult.

Already a homebody, I found myself staying home even more. 

I avoided parties, happy hours and restaurant gatherings. I was scared to be around food that was off-limits and worried I’d lose control once I started eating, especially after a glass of wine. I fretted that if I stayed out too late it would hurt my running performance the next morning.

I also became anxious about traveling.

I feared going to places where I wouldn’t be able to control what food or running spots I’d have access to. I’d cram my carry-on bag with all my safe, allowable foods.

Sneaking and Bingeing
As my list of illegal foods grew, I began playing hide-and-eat.

I started sneaking my forbidden foods and eating them in secret—often at night while standing in the kitchen in the dark.

I was ashamed to be seen eating anything “bad,” especially the large quantities of it I craved. I worried about getting caught and tarnishing my super-disciplined, healthy eater image—an identity I took a lot of pride in.

Because I was depriving myself so much, my secret eating took on a binge-like, Last Supper quality.

I’d urgently stuff cookies into my mouth all while telling myself “What the hell, I might as well go for it because I’m never going to let myself do this again.”

Relationships Suffered
With most of my time, energy and headspace focused on controlling my weight, my relationships suffered.

When I hung out with friends, I was often preoccupied with thoughts about what I shouldn't eat, what I wanted to eat and how my body looked.

My rigid rules also started to drive my boyfriend away. Understandably, he grew increasingly frustrated with my resistance to eating certain foods, my insistence on exercising every day, my reluctance to socialize, my mood swings, and my need for complete control.

I was no longer the fun-loving, easygoing gal he once knew.

Completely Different Person
I was now a person who would contact a food manufacturer to express my outrage when they increased the calorie count on their soy crisps.

I was now someone who, while everyone else was dancing at my friend’s wedding, would sneak handfuls of chocolate truffles off the dessert table and hide them in my purse to eat alone later in my hotel room.

I was now someone who almost missed a morning flight because I just had to get a 5:00 a.m. run in before leaving for the airport.

I was now a hyper-vigilant dieter who spent more time tracking my calories, miles and weight than I did connecting with others, laughing and enjoying life.

I was so ensnared in diet culture and so desperate to conform to the thin ideal that I was oblivious to how dieting was damaging my physical, mental, emotional and social health.

Stopped Me from Going Back
Although I am appalled by and ashamed of my behavior, I feel compassion and sorrow for my younger self who bought into our culture’s very convincing, toxic narrative that thinness would bring me health and happiness and that the size of my body determined my value and worth.

I also feel gratitude for finally being able to see so clearly how my dieting and anti-fat bias were harming myself and others.

My cringe-worthy behavior ended up playing a key role in helping me escape diet culture, recover from chronic dieting, uproot my anti-fat bias, and heal my relationship with food, movement and my body.

Whenever I was tempted to start dieting again, I reflected on the person dieting turned me into and the incredible damage it did. 

Knowing that I never wanted to return to that person and place again motivated me to stay on my healing path.