It’s been about a year since I made the conscious decision to stop freaking out about food. I know a lot of you know exactly what I’m talking about. But in case you’re from another planet, a dude, or in the .01% of badass women who feel totally comfortable in bodies and never stress about food despite the fact that we’ve been bombarded with unreasonable beauty standards since the first time we rocked a pink onesie, let me break it down.
A short list of situations that stressed me out:
-Get-togethers with friends
-Family trips to the ice cream shop
My stress was never a full-blown panic attack and it was never so severe that it kept me from attending any of the above but it was like I was wearing a mental backpack and I didn’t know how heavy it was until I took it off. I was always thinking ahead, like If I eat lightly all day then it’s ‘okay’ to go out to eat tonight or If I run ten miles, I can eat ice cream without feeling bad about it. I treated food, exercise, and my body like a math equation but the fact is, it doesn’t work like that.
The only equation that makes sense is this: We only have so much mental energy. That shit is finite. That’s the whole reason they put the candy and the soda by the cash register. It’s why car salesmen try and get you to buy warranties for stuff you didn’t even know existed after you’ve signed so many documents your hand hurts. It’s why I should never shop online after 9pm. Your brain gets to a point where it’s DONE. It can’t think well anymore so it’s just like “f*ck it, I’m getting the Junior Mints/the 50-year muffler warranty/the floral monokini in three different sizes because free shipping.”
Not giving so much of my precious mental energy to food anxiety hell means I can save it for things that matter. But the absolute best part of not stressing about food is this: