My Food Police Spoiled My Vacations

Many years ago, my boyfriend and I were walking down a quiet cobblestone street in a small Turkish town when we encountered the most delicious aroma. Upon investigation, we discovered it was coming from a small, nondescript bakery on the side of the road.

We poked our heads in and were intrigued by a tray on the counter piled high with flakey, coiled pastries sprinkled with sesame seeds. We had no idea what they were and didn’t speak Turkish but eagerly bought one.

Back on the street, we tore into the roll. It was slightly sweet, crispy on the outside, and soft and tender on the inside.

Its flavor was unlike anything we’d ever tasted before. It took a minute to figure out the star ingredient was tahini and only seconds to decide we wanted more.

With our sticky fingers, we turned right back around, reentered the bakery and purchased more of those glorious rolls.

Momentarily Pleasurable
Unfortunately, this moment of pure pleasure didn’t last long.

It was quickly spoiled by my inner Food Police, the voice in my head that was always trying to make me feel bad, guilty and ashamed about my eating.

This critical, punitive voice berated me for eating something so caloric. It calculated all the miles I would need to run to make up for it. It told me it would be a good idea to skip dinner.

It made me feel remorseful, irritable and distracted.

All this relentless noise in my head turned me into a cranky travel companion and prevented me, and sadly my boyfriend, too, from fully enjoying the rest of our day.

Post-Vacation Compensation
My pastry experience was not unique. It happened over and over again on that vacation and many others with any food I considered bad, fattening or unhealthy.

Despite giving myself a “free pass” to eat whatever I wanted while traveling (WTH, I’m on vacation!), thanks to my dieting mindset, my eating was never truly free.

There was always a sense that I would have to pay for it, that I would need to undo the “damage” I had caused when I got home by restricting my eating and ramping up my exercise.

It’s understandable that I thought this way. Perhaps you have, too.

Diet culture with its anti-fat underpinning has normalized the belief that any sort of food “indulgence” needs to be compensated for with a diet, detox, cleanse, fast, workout, etc.

Just think about how many times you or your vacation companions have said something like “I’ll need to make up for all this eating when I get home!” or “My diet starts the day I return!” or “I’m cutting out carbs the minute I’m back!”

Because comments like these are so common and relatable thanks to our pervasive diet culture, most people will laugh, nod their heads in agreement and respond with a “Me too!” or “I hear ya!”

Guilt-Free Vacation Eating
What if it didn’t have to be this way? What if your vacation wasn’t tainted by worries about what you ate and how you’re going to make up for it? What if you could enjoy whatever you wanted and just move on?

Part of the process of making peace with food includes challenging your diet mentality and anti-fat bias, firing your inner Food Police, and truly giving yourself unconditional permission to eat—not just while you’re on vacation but every day of the year.

I absolutely love trying local foods when I travel. Doing so became so much more pleasurable once I healed my relationship with food and began eating with guilt-free gusto. It makes me wish I could go back to that bakery and do it all over.

What I Ate When My Heart Was Broken

Many years ago, I went through a devasting breakup. I felt like my heart had been ripped out and drop-kicked to the moon.

I was flattened by a level of sadness and depression I had never experienced before. I cried for weeks. My body felt weighed down by grief.

As a result, I lost much of my appetite and my desire to cook. 

My partner and I loved cooking together and the thought of doing it solo was just too painful. 

Very little sounded appealing and I couldn’t stomach anything fresh. 

The only foods that felt tolerable and manageable were buttered pasta and peanut-butter toast, plus banana bread muffins and chocolate chip cookies from a local bakery.

For weeks, these foods comforted me when little else could. They helped me survive one of the hardest, darkest times of my life. 

What I Needed
Despite being deeply entrenched in diet culture and obsessed with controlling my weight at the time, which sadly played a role in the breakup, I’m grateful I let myself eat foods I typically restricted.

Of course, there was a part of me—my inner Food Police—that made me feel bad about my eating. However, it wasn’t as strong as the part of me that desperately wanted to ease my suffering. 

Although my chosen foods didn’t erase my sadness or grief, they did help sustain me. They gave me the emotional comfort and physical energy I needed to make it through each day. 

Demonized by Diet Culture
Despite its tremendous power to soothe, diet culture has demonized comfort food. 

It has taught us to feel bad, guilty, weak or ashamed when we turn to it to navigate tough times. 

As a result, we often feel we have to justify our desires, hide our eating, and make up for our “food sins.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Rightful Coping Tool
Turning to food to self-soothe is a natural human behavior, one we do from the day we’re born.

Its ability to soothe our mind, body, heart and soul is something to embrace and celebrate. 

Providing comfort is just one of the many roles it plays in our lives, one of the many ways it meets our needs, and one of the many gifts it gives us.

For many of us, food is an easily accessible coping mechanism—one that has a rightful place in our emotional coping toolkit.

Compassion and Curiosity
My “heartbreak diet” didn’t last forever. I eventually added in more foods and made my way back to cooking. 

I’ve had much tougher, sadder times since that breakup and it’s been interesting to see how each experience has impacted my eating.

Because I’ve worked hard to make peace with food and my body—something that was spurred on by that breakup—I’m now able to observe what I’m experiencing with compassion and curiosity rather than criticism and judgment.

And I appreciate all the more the power of food to comfort. 

Every Weekend, I Binged On Cookies

Many years ago, when I worked in the corporate world, I had a weekend cookie ritual.

Every Friday morning, after getting off the train downtown, I would stop at my favorite cookie shop and pick out a bunch of cookies before going to my office.

The cookies were large, dense and utterly delicious. You could smell them baking from blocks away. The peanut-butter chocolate chip and wheat-germ chocolate chip cookies especially made my mouth water.

I liked to arrive at the bakery early so I could save money by purchasing the half-priced day-old cookies before they were sold out (these cookies weren’t cheap!). Sometimes I’d hit more than one location if the first shop I stopped at didn’t have enough cookies to meet my needs.

Before heading to work, I'd quickly hide the big, butter-stained bakery bag inside a darker bag as I feared my co-workers seeing me with such a “bad” food and potentially tarnishing my “healthy eater” reputation. 

I also worried my co-workers would smell the cookies in my office, so I’d bury the bag under my coat. 

Although secretly obtaining these cookies every Friday was a bit stressful, not getting them felt far more stressful. 

Weekends Nights Only
Late each weekend night, I would stuff myself with the cookies, first while sitting in front of my TV and then while standing in my dark kitchen after doing the dishes. 

I was determined to eat them all before the weekend ended, before my time was up.

You see, I had a rule that I could only eat cookies on weekend nights. They were my reward for eating “clean” during the week.

However, because I was restricting my eating throughout the week, including depriving myself of sweets (you know, being “good”), I had a scarcity mindset that drove me to binge on the cookies when I allowed myself to have them. 

What was supposed to be a yummy treat wasn’t so satisfying in the end. I went to bed uncomfortably full and full of guilt and shame. 

The physical discomfort and emotional distress my cookie binges caused convinced me all the more that I couldn’t be trusted with certain foods, that I had to get back on track on Monday, and that I needed a "no cookies ever" food rule.

Once again, I would be “good” during the week—and once again, I'd inevitably head to the bakery at the end of the week. I was obsessed with those cookies and stuck in a vicious restrict-binge cycle. 

Not About Willpower
While I sometimes binged on other forbidden foods, my weekend cookie binges bothered me the most. 

I tried to explain my anguish to my boyfriend who just laughed as he didn’t understand why I, the healthiest eater he knew, was so devastated by my behavior. 

To be fair, I hid a lot of the cookies and my cookie-eating from him, so he didn’t really have a full grasp of the situation. Plus, he had never dieted a day in his life, so he had no idea what it felt like to “fail” at eating.

What I didn’t understand at the time was that my cookie binges did not make me a failure and were not due to a lack of willpower, despite what diet culture had taught me to believe. 

My behavior was a natural human response to food deprivation. 

With the threat of scarcity just around the corner—that is, no more cookies come Monday—my very protective brain told me to eat all the cookies now before they were gone, even if I didn’t really want them or was uncomfortably full.

Plus, I feared if I didn’t eat them all on the weekend, I would be tempted to eat the leftovers on Monday. Doing so would ruin my good-eating plan and mean I wouldn't deserve to be rewarded with more cookies come Friday.

An Unimaginable Solution
At the time, I thought I needed to stop buying and eating cookies. I never imagined the solution was to freely eat cookies.

When I finally hit rock bottom with my disordered eating, I started challenging my food rules and giving myself unconditional permission to eat. 

This included eating cookies whenever I wanted, even on a Wednesday and even for breakfast. Loosening the reins was scary, but to my great surprise, my cookie binges eventually stopped.

Over time, I went from rigidly controlling my cookie consumption and then feeling shamefully out of control with them to freely eating cookies at any time and feeling neutral about it.

Now, I pretty much always have cookies on hand along with many other foods I had once made off-limits.

All these years later, I’m still sometimes astounded by how these foods are no longer a big deal.

The sense of ease and peace I now feel with food is something I wish for you, too.