I used to go on lots of diets. And anti-diets. This is how it went down:

At the dawn of my twenties life was a nice yawn. Cheerful but not exactly challenging, if you know what Im sayin. I found a cozy corner where I could get away with using about 1/16th of my brain, where croissants and "healthy frozen yoghurt smoothies" (fat free milk with 50 spoons of hiding sugar) were the closest I could get to the high that normal non-brats get from applying their talents in a meaningful way and getting shit done.

I preferred croissants. They're so buttery!

And you can't fail at eating croissants. So I went to TOWN!

Surprise numero 1: my butt got bigger.

Which pissed me off big time because we both know, (society and I) that

I'm only as good as the size the of my ass. Skinny bitch, happy life.

I leaped off the scale and into my aesics, subscribed to the gym and ran. Every day I ran my butt off. Which was stressful and made me very hungry but nothing tastes as good as skinny feels so I pushed myself harder and ran faster, intervals, uphills pulling the rubber band as far back as it could stretch, buzzed on adrenalin, 'self-control’ and denial.

Surprise numero 2: the rubber band snapped.

The only inevitable outcome of obsession and deprivation is a binge of the exact thing you deprive yourself of.

I ate everything in sight, including things I would usually find unappetizing - if it looked 'forbidden' and 'indulgent' then into my pie-hole! Also at the speed of light because, "tomorrow we'll eat nothing again, so cash in while you can fatty".

And sure enough the deprivation diet would commence the following day. It takes about two days of starvation and 2 long runs to forgive / punish yourself for a binge eat the previous day. On day three you're feeling real 'balanced'. And on day 4 you're just about stretched out and ready for another surprise binge release - usually after a few drinks when your logical brain is too tipsy and tired to partake in this exhausting game of resistance and deficiency. And down you slide into coo-coo candy land.

This literal and proverbial running from food, but ultimately from myself, went on for years. The hardest thing to ever do when you're a yo-yo is to stop yo-yoing. Up and down swinging is a tough momentum to intercept. But it's the only way.

I stopped and sat on my neutral sized gluteus maximus and breathed. Nothing else. When I sat in deafening stillness doing nothing I finally calmed down and started listening to my body (Yes, turns out that's an actual thing).

I vowed to not run again and committed instead to let go of obsession and allow myself to give a real shit about me. Not my waistline. I started feeling attracted to nutrition that feeds my brain and replenishes my cells.

I spontaneously started doing things that just so happened to be good for my physiology - this vessel that carries my ideas and allows me to serve others and make the world better.

You can't bullshit your biochemistry. Your body needs real fuel. If you commit to really feeding it - lovingly like you would a relative- then things start to fall into place. Diet-free, gym-free, control-free falling.

What is your "I-can't-stop-once-I-pop" food?

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