My Last Last Supper. It Involved A Lot of Bread.

Many years ago, I went to see a naturopath about some health challenges I was having. As part of my treatment, she asked me to eliminate some foods from my diet, including gluten. Desperate to feel better, I agreed to do so.

I gave myself one last week to eat all my favorite gluten-containing foods.

During those last few days, I vividly recall feasting on artisanal sourdough loaves from my beloved local bread maker. 

I also raided all my favorite bakeries loading up on blueberry scones, chocolate chip cookies, veggie focaccia, chocolate fudge cake, and yes, more bread.

The idea of future deprivation drove this intense phase of one-last-shot, now-or-never eating. I happily gorged on gluten while simultaneously grieving the end of our relationship.

Can you relate to this behavior?

It’s called Last Supper Eating.

Farewell-to-Food Feast
Before embarking on a new diet, plan or program, have you ever found yourself eating everything in sight, especially the foods that will soon be forbidden?

Or perhaps you planned one last elaborate meal featuring all the dishes that would be off-limits starting tomorrow.

If you’re a yo-yo dieter, you’re likely very familiar with this pre-dieting ritual. Maybe it occurs every Sunday night before you get back on track on Monday.

Like many of my clients, you may view this period of intense, frantic consumption—which is often followed by overwhelming guilt—as “proof” that you need to restrict your eating because you simply can’t control yourself around food.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

The threat of food restriction can naturally trigger a Last Supper, farewell-to-food feast. It’s human nature to respond this way when deprivation and scarcity are just around the corner.

Yet, it’s so easy to go into self-blame and shame.

How to End Last Supper Eating
Intuitive Eating puts an end to Last Supper Eating.

With Intuitive Eating, there is no deprivation. You have unconditional permission to eat whatever looks good, tastes good, and feels good in your body.

Instead of depriving yourself and eating according to a set of rules, you ask yourself questions such as: What will hit the spot? What will satisfy my needs and desires? Is this satisfying? Do I like how it tastes and how it makes my body feel? Would I do anything differently next time?

In the Driver's Seat
When I started reclaiming my ability to eat intuitively, I asked myself if I actually liked the gluten-free foods I was eating.

The gluten-free bread, for example, was tolerable. It wasn’t delicious. It was simply an expensive vehicle for nut butter.

Since it wasn’t medically necessary for me to eliminate gluten (i.e., I don’t have celiac disease), I experimented with eating my beloved breads again, along with other gluten-containing foods—and my body felt just fine.

Although well-intentioned, the diet the naturopath put me on didn’t improve my health. It only caused a lot of unnecessary stress and left me feeling deprived and unsatisfied, which always backfires.

As an Intuitive Eater, I'm in the driver's seat. 

I determine what works best for me by staying attuned to the messages my body sends and focusing on what's satisfying.

If I skip a particular food because I don’t like how it tastes or feels in my body, I don’t view it as deprivation as I know I can have it if I truly want it, now or in the future.

It's such a relief to know I’ve had my last Last Supper.

Is It Ok to Eat Sweet Potatoes? When Food Stresses You Out

Many years ago, when I was deeply entrenched in wellness culture, I was listening to an episode of a popular podcast that was all about optimizing your health.

The host and his guest were taking calls from listeners. I’ll never forget one listener who called in to ask if sweet potatoes were allowed on the particular “lifestyle diet” she was following. 

I was struck by the distraught tone of her voice and how stressed she was about whether or not it was okay to eat a sweet potato. 

Of course, there was a part of me that related to her struggle. 

While I never restricted sweet potatoes, I certainly restricted many other foods I considered “bad."

Like her, I often felt confused about what I should or shouldn’t be eating and feared breaking a food rule as doing so felt catastrophic. I identified with her desire to eat perfectly and her need to be in control of every morsel she consumed.

And, I understood all too well the overwhelming, relentless stress and anxiety that comes along with all of this. 

I Felt Sad, Too
However, there was also a part of me that felt sad—sad for her and sad about the entire situation. 

I remember thinking there was something not quite right about being so stressed out about eating a particular food—and something not quite right about three adults discussing the pros and cons of her eating it.

It was distressing to consider how much time and energy we were all wasting on our quest to be perfect, healthy eaters when there were so many more important, meaningful and fulfilling things to focus on. 

Was this really the best use of our lives? 

And, if what we were doing in the “name of health” was causing us so much emotional stress, was it really healthy?

Started to Question
It was moments like these that caused me to start questioning wellness culture, which is mostly diet culture in disguise, and my participation in it.

I was beginning to see the many ways it can trigger disordered eating with all its fearmongering, good and bad foods, eat this, not that lists, and gazillion other often conflicting and harmful messages, all largely driven by anti-fat bias.

I started to examine my own food rules and fears, including investigating where they came from, the evidence behind them, and if they truly supported my wellbeing. 

I discovered that none of them were warranted.

They disconnected me from my body, caused a lot of needless suffering and stress, and stopped me from having an intuitive, satisfying and peaceful relationship with food.

Of course, if I had a health condition that necessitated avoiding a specific food, like Celiac disease or a shellfish allergy, trepidation about consuming gluten, shrimp, etc. would be an understandable, rational fear. 

I hope the sweet-potato lady eventually overcame her unnecessary food fears, ditched her stressful rules and found her way to food freedom. And, I hope you do, too. 

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.