Intuitive Eating

It’s the start of a new year, and like most of America, I feel the need to atone. Seven glorious pounds later—earned through a relentless pursuit of everything I denied myself all year—I’ve maxed out my fat and sugar levels, often in the same package, and frequently throughout the day. So now the question is: Which diet should I try this year?

I’ve chosen Intuitive Eating.

Yes, Intuitive Eating. The premise sounds dreamy: eat what you want, stop when you’re no longer hungry. No restrictions, no calorie counting—just listen to your “hunger cues.” Simple, right? Easy. Also wildly un-American. Practically Communis-tic. (Is that a word? If not, it should be.)

Here’s the problem: we’ve been conditioned since childhood to ignore hunger cues. Every meal is a Thanksgiving feast. We clean our plates, ask for seconds, and only stop when mashed potatoes threaten to overflow from stomach to esophagus. Satisfaction means rubbing a bloated belly—or, more realistically, wearing stretchy pants.

And we don’t just eat; we refuel like elite athletes. Gatorade, energy bars, trail mix with candy—as if we’ve scaled Everest. In reality, the only thing we’ve scaled is into our SUV. (To be fair, have you seen some of those SUVs? The seats are so high they come with retractable steps.)

Still, I’m going to try. I’ll attempt to silence the “food noise”—a phrase that perfectly captures the American brain. We’re surrounded by food, and it’s loud. Right now, a peanut butter jar is calling my name, and a lonely piece of cake is sobbing for attention. How can I ignore them? If I don’t eat them, who will? It feels like civic duty. After all, starving kids exist, and somehow my eating helps… right?

Food has been my friend—comforting me, celebrating with me, bonding me to others over snacks and drinks. How do I ignore that? Honestly, I don’t even know what hunger is anymore. At this moment, I feel both full and empty. Empty because there’s still a tiny corner left to fill. How is that possible? Conditioning. So, can I un-train?

Meanwhile, that cake is screaming.

Hungry.

No, full.

No, hungry.

Yes.

No.

Don’t know.