I did an interview recently about the ever-fraught subject of holiday eating. And I wanted you to see it, have it, and know that it’s possible to be kind to yourself in this upcoming period of family and food. It’s possible to delight in the food on your plate — why not? — and to be tender to yourself about what you need, when, and why. To act on your own behalf no matter who is sitting at the table with you. […]
I was standing near the buffet at a party recently with two women I’d never met. One eyed the garlic mashed potatoes and said, “Oh God, it looks so good! But I promised myself I’d stay on a low-carb diet for at least three weeks, and this is only day two.” The other woman said, “I told myself I would lose weight this year, and I haven’t lost a pound. Diets never work for me, though. …
I’ve been thinking about chocolate cake recently. To be precise, I’ve been thinking about what happens when a piece of bittersweet flourless Chocolate Decadence Cake arrives at a table where a few friends and I have agreed to share the dense, sweet dessert. Eyes light up. […]
When I first heard the Buddhist description of hungry ghosts — beings with stomachs as big as caves and throats as narrow as pins — I was positive I was going straight to hell as a hungry ghost. After all, this was an exact description of my experience with food. And not just with food, but also with life. […]
When my husband and I eat at an outdoor restaurant these days, his meal always looks better than mine. I’m not sure why, since we don’t usually like the same kinds of food — but within three minutes, my fork finds its way to his side of the table. …
Night comes swiftly like “a great, dark, soft thing,” and for most of my life I’ve greeted it reluctantly, as if behind the darkness lurked terror and shattered hearts. My mother says, “You were a fast napper from the day you were born. Other kids went down for two hours. You slept for twenty minutes and were up for the rest of the day.” Even as an infant, I didn’t want to surrender to that dark, soft thing. […]
I am sitting at the kitchen table enraptured with a bowl of tomato soup. Not just any tomato soup: mine has crushed tomatoes, coconut milk, sea salt, parsley, a dash of coconut oil, and honey. (If you try it at home, blend to a thick consistency, add some thyme, pepper, and cloves.) I look down at the bowl: a nip, not even a spoonful, is left. Although I’m no longer hungry, I still want more. […]
A few years ago, my therapist of ten years said, “I think you’re done, Geneen. You’ve worked hard, and you can continue, but I think you’re done.” Done? I sputtered and spit up the spiced tea I was drinking on my new mustard-colored sweater. […]
A mother of an 8-year-old was desperate. “My daughter is gaining weight by the second,” she told me. “I am so afraid that I have passed on my troubles with food to her, and I don’t know whether to remove all candy from the house, take her to a doctor, or put her on a strict diet. Help!” […]
During the peak of my diet and binge days, hunger had nothing to do with how much I consumed — I ate because I was angry, sad, bored, lonely, or tired, or because I was celebrating, grieving, or getting ready to go on another diet. […]
My favorite bowl broke the other day. A friend was visiting and she mistakenly crashed into something which crashed into the bowl and that was that. After wanting (but deciding it was not a good idea) to blame her for being such a klutz — blame is always my first line of defense and a […]
It’s Christmas and I am 10 years old. I want a tree. I want the twinkling lights, the angel at the top, the presents at the bottom. But my mother say no. We are Jewish and Jewish people celebrate Hanukkah, not Christmas. […]
A reporter interviewed me recently about what people can do to end their obsession with food. “Do you still binge?” she asked. “No,” I answered. “Does your weight vacillate from season to season?” “No again,” I said. “I’ve been at my natural weight for a few decades.” “So let me see if I’ve got this […]
Until recently, I never used the word contentment; it seemed like asking too much. Also, the word itself seemed to imply smugness and being so satisfied with the way things were that there was no room for reaching or growing. Instead of contentment, I used the word happiness. But there was also a problem with […]
I have a friend who dreads summer because of what she calls the unveiling of her body. Peeling off her clothes, she says, reveals “the horror of it all.” The back fat. The cellulite. All the new cellulite that mysteriously appeared over the winter. The belly bulge that makes people ask, “Hey, are you pregnant?” […]
For many years, I was convinced that by changing my body, I would change my life. Because I was certain that my suffering was due to my size, I believed that when the weight disappeared, it would take old wounds, hurts, and rejections with it. I thought that changing the shape on the outside would alter the feelings on the inside. Silly me. […]
Every morning Matt, Izzy and I meet our next-door neighbors and their dog Happy for a walk. Izzy tears around, barks, puppy bows and takes a nip on Happy’s ears to entice him to play with her. No dice. Happy stands mute, unresponsive, looks at the grass. After the first ear nip, Happy runs to […]
There are so many new things to worry about these days that I can’t keep track of them (and I worry about that): worldwide financial collapse, dirty bombs, supergerms. And then there are the old fears: cancer, Alzheimer’s, what gravity will eventually do to my neck.
Back in the last century, I weighed almost twice as much as I do now—and I desperately wanted to be thin. So desperately that if a genie had appeared (and I’m not exactly proud of this fact) and offered me one wish, it would have been to wake up thin the next day.
Kate and her mother spent years dieting together. They joined Weight Watchers, went on Atkins, tried the Master Cleanse together. They suffered together over the size of their thighs. But six months ago, after Kate came to one of my retreats, she decided that she didn’t want to diet anymore, didn’t want to punish or deprive herself. […]
