About diet talk and body positivity
This text started as an attempt to write about why I don’t like people commenting on (my) food when eating in public. While writing I realised I had to share more of my personal life and where I’m coming from, so it is more understandable why I’m having such a hard time with diet talk. In the end, this became a blog about diets, intuitive eating, self-care, and about respecting our own bodies and the bodies of others.
Society is pretty hung up on perfect bodies and, thus, food – those two seem to hang closely together. “We are what we eat”, right? Sounds legit. Or does it rather cut something very complex down to a simplifying and, well, blatantly incorrect sentence?
First of all, what we eat depends on so many things – like on the place we grow up, in what country we are born, and in what social part or class of society we were raised in. Also, when we look closely, stuff like what gender we are assigned with could be seen to make us choose different food. A lot of people believe that a “real man” needs to eat meat, or that women should generally eat less than men do. So “you are what you eat” strongly ignores social inequalities and, even worse, it judges you on things you did not decide by yourself.
It also sounds like a religion or a fatal cult. By this logic we are the sum of the food we eat. If we do “good” we get rewarded, if we do “bad” we will be punished. And if we get sick and some doctor tracks that back to our lifestyle (like to what we eat), then we supposedly brought it all on ourselves because we should have known better. We knew the rules of “health”, right? So if we have a heart attack, it’s because we ate too much fatty food. If we get diabetes, we ate too much sugar or simple carbohydrates. If we get an auto-immune disease, we exposed ourselves to too much to the “wrong” food like gluten, milk, or red meat. In all cases we definitely omitted to exercise enough, too, I’m sure.
And in the final consequence, if we brought our ‘unhealthy’ bodies on ourselves, then why should anyone, doctor or health insurance, help us and treat our disease? We made our bed, now we must lie in it, right?
A new diet theory every year
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that our food and lifestyle does not have any impact on the condition of our bodies, but I’m sure that we get the cause wrong most of the time. The human body is so complex. Who are we do think that we figured it all out? Watching some new food being demonized every other year should have proven this to us by now, shouldn’t it?
We are exposed to so much information about diets and nutrition in the course of our lives: Don’t eat wheat. Oh wait, but you can eat older wheat like dinkle. Drinking milk will kill you. But milk is so healthy, because calcium, you should drink milk every day. Butter is better than margarine. No, margarine is better. Or are both equally bad for you but for different reasons? Fat is bad for you no matter what. No wait, some fats are actually good and we need them for our body to process other food groups. Vegetables are always good for you. Unless it’s corn. And watch out for canned foods because of all the salt and sugar in it, but frozen vegetables are fresh and untreated. Fruits are healthy. In general we should eat vegetables and fruits 5 times a day. Oh no wait, fruit has sugar in it, so it’s not good after all. But oh, vitamins. That’s a twist, I guess. Red meat is bad, white meat is good. Or is meat always bad and should we replace it with fish? Let’s all go vegan to save the planet! (At this point I’m not going into the debate on if we Middle/Northern Europeans should or shouldn’t eat stuff like avocados or quinoa, and how fish is tricky anyway because of overfishing. Food production in capitalism in general, oh my.)
If you speak/read German, I highly recommend the book “Fa(t)shionista” by Magda Albrecht from 2018. She shares a lot of personal stories about the relationship to her body but also scientific info like the history of BMI or where the diseases (and “diseases”) of modern society more likely come from. Did you know that the BMI was never meant for categorizing individuals? And that in 1997 the WHO just set a new BMI for ‘obesety’ which made millions of people become overweight overnight? Also Magda writes: “[A]uch bei Bluthochdruck, Blutzucker oder dem Cholesterinspiegel [hat] die Lobbyarbeit der Pharmaindustrie dafür gesorgt [...], dass Grenzwerte so lange gesenkt wurden, bis die Mehrzahl der Bevölkerung in mindestens eine der zahlreichen Risikofaktoren fielen: Alles für die Gesundheit, natürlich! Oder vielleicht auch nur für die Geldbeutel großer Unternehmen?” (p. 157 // in english: “It’s the same with blood pressure, blood sugar or cholesterol. The drug industry kept declining the setpoint values for those too, so now most of our society suffers from at least one of those risk factors. All for the sake of health, of course! Or is it for the sake of the wallets of large companies?”)
Life is all about diversity
When I was 17 I stopped eating meat, and I was immediately told from a lot of different people whose opinions I never asked for that becoming a vegetarian is really unhealthy. (Of course now, in 2019, that viewpoint has shifted from vegetarians to vegans, so…)
Whenever my iron was low my doctors told me it was probably from being a vegetarian. Or from having my period. Or if they had been honest with me and themselves – they had no idea. Sometimes blood levels change, and who is to say that everybody has the same range of components in their blood? For example, my leukocytes are so low all the time that I would constantly be sick from colds and other infections. Surprisingly, I hardly ever have those. I do have other issues though. We’re all different, and our bodies react differently to medications, food, and different lifestyles. It’s a little like hormones. If you use hormone levels to prove that there are only two genders you won’t get very far. Like using blood components to divide people into healthy and unhealthy. Let’s give biology some credit and see how diverse we are on so many levels, shall we?
All my life I have been interested in food theories and diets. At some point in my life I even wanted to become a nutritionist, but then got scared of chemistry and all the science behind it. But I also had a dark interest in diets, too. Being a teenager I had a phase of body hate that resulted in an eating disorder that resulted in drastically cutting down my food until I lost more and more weight. I soon looked very thin and according to a lot of people in my life, “really great”. The doctors who had suggested I “lose a few pounds” were happy too. Myself? I felt like crap. And even after all that weight loss, I didn’t even see my body as thin, so disconnected was I to body image and the reality of it. Looking back on those pictures today, I feel fear – I can’t even recognise myself in them, I look so gaunt.
However, I learned something from that experience: Being thin doesn’t automatically make me happy. And realizing that back then I felt betrayed by science. It should have worked, right? Lose weight, feel great!? I guess not.
I wish I could say that this made me come to peace with my body for good, but it didn’t. Later in life I still tried to change my body and/or weight by regulating my diet and using sports, very often against the will of my body. Yet I was never one of the people who did an official diet, I never used concepts like the “Ornish Diet”, “The Grapefruit Diet” or the new “Brigittte Diät”. But at some point in life I realized I became an “unconscious dieter”. This is a term I found a few years ago in a book called “Intuitive Eating” (Tribole/Resch 1995/2012: 9) and resonated. For example, at times I felt like I should cut back on chocolate or processed food only because I felt like I should strive for a more healthy lifestyle and a healthier body (whatever that’s supposed to be). I never would have called this “being on a diet”, but in fact I was: I acted on internalised food rules, was not listening to my body, and was very judgemental about my eating behaviour (in the privacy of my thoughts) while dividing food into good and bad.
Every time I changed the food on my table I got disappointed again to find that my body did not react the way I expected it to. For weeks I rationalised my chocolate consumption, but it only lead to me being unsatisfied because I wanted more chocolate or I wanted it at a time I wouldn’t allow myself. Sometimes I did not want it at all when scheduled but ate it anyway because I felt like I should not let the opportunity for chocolate pass me by.
Giving your body what it doesn’t want and withholding your body from what it needs can’t ever be healthy. In other words, quoting Tribole/Resch: “A dieting body is a starving body” (Tribole/Resch 1995/2012: 59).
Listen to your heart... or your body in general
Later in life I stopped consuming cow’s milk and everything that is made from it on the advice of various therapies. It’s common if you have an immune-disease like I have, to look for clues in your diet, too. Meanwhile I started avoiding eggs and coconut milk, because they didn’t leave me feeling well. But, occasionally, I get the feeling I want to eat them and, when I listen to my body, that impulse is right and I don’t feel sick afterwards. Body intuition for the win.
Realising that I actually have a good sense of what food is good for me and what isn’t, the whole diet problem began to make more sense. I was trying to press my food schedule into the desires or the nutrition that other people came up with. This would never have worked. Actually, I think we all have that sense of what is good for us, but it’s covered with all the public opinions on diets and the “perfect” body.
When I really allow myself to listen to my body, most of the time I can feel what it needs and what it doesn’t. Nothing is off limits.
If only it was that easy. Because by listening to my body, I have to ward of constant urges society has given me to divide my food into “good food” and “bad food”. I have to push aside the illusion that a thin body would make me happy. I have to push aside all the body shaming I have internalised. The thought that our body is something to be hated or be feared and that it has to be punished if we are too weak to stay on our fancy paleo or whatever diet.
In the end, it’s all about self-respect, body-positivity, and about acknowledging that our body is not a machine. Our body is a complex system and no one else but us can say what it needs.
You eat tomatoes, I want potatoes
Listening to my body is getting me different results every day. Some essential things stay kind of the same though. Like, my body has almost zero problems with carbohydrates, and I love eating potatoes in any form imaginable. Gluten and yeast are fine with me, bread making an appearance in my meals every day. Occasionally I like things made of soy/tofu, but they’re not my go to protein. I love legumes and vegetables of all kinds, but I only like to eat (raw) fruits on rare occasions. Green salad and raw food in general is tricky, and mostly repulsive. Yet from time to time I crave a green salad with a simple vinegar-honey dressing. Especially in public spaces, vegan food works best for me because then I can be sure there is no meat and no cow milk in there. Also I just love vegan food.
But that’s just how my body works right now. I believe for everybody there’s different food that works best. Let’s not act like there is one diet that works on all of us. Also our body and the food we need changes over time. And I guess in theory we all know that, but our routines are still hard to change.
The other day I read a tagline online saying, “Being obsessed with health doesn’t make you healthy. It only makes you obsessed”. And had to take a minute at the truth behind it. Especially as we can’t say what makes us healthy anyway. But we can say if something makes us feel good or not. Eating according to my intuition is the thing that has made most sense to me up to now, compared to all other diets and nutrition theories. Being happy while eating and the simple feeling that my body is having a good time is more important than eating what society thinks is right.
My struggle with intuition
I have to admit there is still one thing I have not figured out yet, and it’s something that’s overshadowed by my eating disorder from my teenage years that sometimes catches up with me: How many meals a day work best with me? So far I think it’s not three big meals, but more meals of different sizes. And eating at what time of the day works best for me? I try to listen to my body and eat when it feels right. Whereas, I can get a good feeling what I want to eat, I’m not that good in knowing when to eat. And having experienced an eating disorder, I know I can very well suppress the feeling of hunger, sometimes unconsciously. I have a lot of awful strategies to trick my body. There is a part of me that likes to punish my body by keeping it from eating. So this is really tricky and I’m still working on it.
And of course there is a major problem for all of us: our other-directed daily routines. Eating intuitively would work way better if only we could decide what and when to eat everyday. But with having to work to make money to pay for rent and – oh right, food (ha) and everything else, a lot of my meals are not all decided by myself. I can’t arrive to work at any given time, so I often have breakfast earlier than I’d like to. Then my day is filled with projects and meetings and private dates, so I have to plan my meals around them.
Not only that, too much stress makes it hard for me to hear what my body needs. I love chocolate (in case I haven’t mentioned this before ;)), but when I am too stressed out by work I eat chocolate for stress release. This is not bad in general. But after a while of this happening again and again I don’t even enjoy eating the chocolate. So next time I want to eat chocolate, instead I try questioning that decision and try to listen to my body: Is this really what would make me feel good now? And sometimes it is and I eat chocolate. Sometimes it’s not, and then I try to figure out what I want instead and what would really make me feel better. I do like things such as sugar, beer, and even smoking a cigarette from time to time. But I do not like it when I stop enjoying these things and only use them because I am stressed or sad or angry. Sure, I sometimes have a beer after a shitty day and that’s okay, but I would hate to make a habit out of that. Both the shitty days and the beers.
So I guess my theories don’t always work perfectly yet. It’s a work in progress.
In the last couple of years I had to relearn a lot of opinions and reflexes I was taught about eating when being young. And I’m still (un)learning, like: There is no good food/bad food. I don’t have to finish my plate if I am not hungry anymore. It’s okay to eat something else instead too. I don’t have to eat lots of fruits and vegetables every day if the thought of eating it makes me sick. I don’t have to stick to a fix count of meals a day. I don’t have to eat the same amount of food every day. And so on.
One more thing I try to learn is not to explain why I eat or won’t eat something right now. I used to say stuff like “I’m not hungry”, “I already ate so much today” or “Nothing for me, I had a late breakfast” or “It’s too late in the evening for me to be eating now” or thinking “I already had fries for lunch, I can’t have fries for dinner again”. Nope. No explanations, no regrets, no diet talk, no body shaming anymore. Three carbs-only-meals in a row because it feels right? I’ll do it. Eating dinner at 11pm because my body longs for food right now? Sure. If I’m not ravenous, but still feel my body would love something to eat? I’m having it.
Sharing’s not always caring
Something I don’t enjoy a lot for many different reasons is eating in public. I’m easily stressed by social situations in general but especially when it comes to sharing a meal, so I don’t often eat together with other people.
The other reason for that is that I hate it when people comment on my food. Or the food of others. Or their own food. And I don’t mean comments like “Wow, that looks so good!” or “I think I will order that myself”, I would love those comments. No, the comments I hear and hate a lot are comments that appear harmless, but really mess with my head. Like when I order and the person next to me says “Wow that’s quite a big portion!” or “Oooh, that looks like pure sugar” or “That would be impossible for me to eat.”
It’s tricky even if people make that comments about their own food. When someone eats half of the food on their plate and then says, “This was so much, now I’m going to be full for the rest of the day.” How will that make the person feel that sits next to them that ate all the food on the plate and is still hungry? Especially when that person commenting is thinner than the other one?
Sorry, but in a world that condemns sugar (or even all carbs) and divides good and bad food and wants us to eat less food in general, those comments can’t ever be neutral observations or harmless notes.
Keeping your diet talk to yourself
“I get through the day easily without eating much at all.” “Eating a lot of fast food makes me feel toxic.” “Gluten is pure poison for my body.” “Since I’m doing [insert new diet] I feel like a human again.” “I can’t eat anything right now, I had a generous lunch.” “I could never function when eating toast with Nutella for breakfast.” “I’ll burn off the calories in the gym later.” “Alright, today is my ‘cheat day’.”
All of these comments are steeped in society's expectations.
I totally get that these are things people say about themselves in that moment, and if I’d only see them as self-revelation it guess it would be fine in a way. But that’s not how communication works, especially not with topics that are so morally pre-shaped like diets, food, and bodies. On good days, I can brush these words off, but on bad days I fall into despair: Why don’t I want to eat salad more? Why do I have to like chocolate so much? Maybe gluten is poison for me too, but I just don’t know it yet? My lunch was also generous, but I’m hungry again. What’s wrong with me? Why didn’t I get through today without much food? (This is an especially hard sentence for me as it cuts right into my eating disorder whispering that I could too, and all I have to do is… yeah, let’s not go there.)
Sometimes I wish I could just share meals without anyone making comments on the food beyond if they like it or not – their eating habits, and their or my body, all disguised as small talk. I think we should all be more careful how we talk about food because it’s a minefield full of stereotypes, preoccupations, shame, and it mostly comes with our personal past full of hurtful experiences with diet talk. So let’s think about how what we say can make other people feel like, and maybe let’s remember that most of us carry trauma from the topics of diet and food in one or another way.
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