On food, control, and the daily work of choosing better
Who here wants to admit when they have a problem?
I definitely don’t — and yet, I know you can’t fix a problem if you aren’t even willing to acknowledge it's there. And me and food? We have one.
I know that people who don’t struggle with food might laugh at those of us who do. They might scoff at the idea that food problems are real — but for many of us, they are.
You’ve probably assumed, based on my weight loss success, that I’ve got my eating habits all figured out. That I see food differently now. That I’m “cured.” That’s not entirely true.
These days, I can control myself — but that doesn’t mean I always want to. I stay within my calorie limits most days. I eat normal foods, in normal portions. I don’t binge, aside from the occasional planned indulgence. From the outside, I look like someone who has it together when it comes to food. And I am doing good work — work I’m proud of.
But the truth? It’s still impossibly hard. Even after years of healthier living, I wrestle with food daily. The fact that I can’t just eat whatever I want, whenever I want, makes me want it even more. That urge never really disappears. I’ve just learned how to push it down.
I’ve come too far to go back to the miserable, unhealthy life I used to live. I refuse to be that version of myself again. So I keep myself in check. I choose grilled chicken over mozzarella sticks. I make the right choice — even when I don’t want to. And I’m proud of that strength. But it doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Most people eat without thinking. To them, food is just fuel. It’s not a reward. Not a source of joy. Not a comfort or a crutch. I envy those people. I want to be like them. I don’t want to obsess over every bite. I don’t want to feel guilt when I eat something indulgent or regret when I don’t. I just want to be normal around food… and I don’t know if I ever will be.
I love food. That’s part of how I got so big in the first place. But I also hate it — because of the hold it still has over me. When I eat something unhealthy, I feel ashamed. When I make the “right” choice, I mourn what I didn’t get to eat. It’s a constant internal tug-of-war.
That’s the problem: I love food, and I hate food. I don’t think that will ever completely go away. Yes, I’ve learned portion control. I’ve learned what to eat and what not to eat. I’ve built habits that help me stay on track. But it’s still a fight — and sometimes I lose.
It would be so easy to stop caring. To let the cravings win. That’s what I want to do, some days. But it’s not what I choose to do. I’ve learned to live with the tension — between what I want in the moment, and what I want in the long run.
I still wish I could be one of those people who eats without tracking, who doesn’t plan every meal like a military operation. But for me, food logging is what works. It’s how I hold myself accountable. It’s how I stay healthy. It’s become my normal.
I’m not perfect. I don’t always make the right choice. But I’m doing okay. I’m stronger than I used to be, even when it doesn’t feel that way.
This isn’t something I’ll ever fully be “done” with — and maybe that’s okay. Maybe part of healing is learning to carry it better, even if you still carry it every day.
I’ll keep logging. I’ll keep choosing.
And I’ll keep trying to make peace with the part of me that still wishes it were easier.
Because even when it’s hard — I’m still here, still choosing better, one bite at a time.
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