Fighting with food

I weigh myself on an empty stomach every morning. I'm not trying to gain weight, and I am certainly not trying to lose weight. I want to maintain what I have, and personally, this daily weigh-in is an effective habit — however unhealthy it may be.

Today, almost 10 per cent of the world suffers from an eating disorder, up from 3.5 per cent in 2000. There are many reasons for this, although genetics and biology are the two, that I hear discussed frequently. For instance, whenever I find myself stressed, all I can think about is a) whatever it is I am worried about. And b) what I want to eat next. Anxiety, however, can also be an appetite killer. Well, it is for my best mate at least. Every individual is unique, therefore, so is the way we think about food. Alas, the variations of disordered eating, from binging to complete restriction. 

The psychology of eating

Metabolism is the breakdown of food into energy. Some people have slower metabolic rates than others, meaning their body spends fewer calories at rest. Although there are ways to alter Base Metabolic Rate (resistance training being one of them) it ultimately boils down to genetics. Essentially, people with fast metabolisms find gaining weight difficult, whereas those with slow metabolisms do not. I used to think I had a slow metabolism and lived off a starvation diet as a result. As it turned out, I was wrong. I eventually veered from this habit of eating, although, it was much more challenging than I expected. I had been living off so little for so long that when I tried eating more than the minimum, it just felt wrong. It became a psychological battle.

From anxiety to insomnia, our psyche plays an enormous role in the way we think about food. Personally, having an ADHD brain, I have some obsessive-compulsive tendencies. For instance, when I write in the morning, everything must be in its correct place. My lamp is focused down on my keyboard, my multivitamin electrolyte drink with ice is placed on my right-hand side, and of course, I am sipping on a steaming cup of tea. The herbal tea is the only independent variable. Whenever I miss this writing block, I feel like the rest of my day is far less productive. I have recognised this obsessive behaviour corresponds with the way I eat. 

Gladly, I am far less preoccupied with my diet than I used to be. I will eat with friends and family, and you may occasionally catch me with a cone of full-fat ice cream. Nevertheless, 80 per cent of the time, I still track my caloric and macronutrient intake. I must if I want peace of mind.

Exercising to eat

I weight train most days, and when I don’t, I run — sometimes I do both. If I didn’t, I would eat far less to compensate for the calories I didn’t burn. In a typical week, from Monday to Friday, I consume roughly 1800-2000 calories, which for me, floats around a 500-calorie deficit. Within this 2000 calories is 150g of protein, which I consume for muscle growth and protein synthesis. I make up for the remaining calories with carbs and fats. I don’t count carbs and fats vigilantly, however, if I do have something big planned, like a half marathon, for instance, I will increase carbohydrates. I don’t always advocate restriction, and I’ll eat to perform when I have to. Free from extreme exercise, however, I prefer solely to focus on protein intake.

That said, after spending the week in a calorie deficit, I will put my scales aside, head to the tavern with my mates, and discuss our stressful lives over a Parmi and pint. And I will do this without implementing an irrational regime of fasting and exercise-induced punishment the following day. Instead, I’ll carry out my usual routine. I may run 10 kilometres and follow it with some resistance training, but I won’t do this because I feel I must, I will because it makes me happy.

But a problem persists — the world does not revolve around my dietary schedule. Social events almost always involve food and often don’t happen on the weekend. There are only so many times you can excuse an eating disorder before your friends start to worry. As I said, I look at food from a much healthier perspective these days, although in the past, whenever I decided to indulge mid-week, if my schedule was open the following day, I would typically fast until dinner and fill my spare time with self-destructive exercise. 

This self-diagnosed eating disorder peaked between July and October 2022. Most days I would consume a diet of 1000 calories, I would run, lift weights, overwork, and study all at the same time – a recipe for a mental breakdown (which I did eventually have). Thankfully, I have great friends who noticed my destructive behaviour. They would make me eat (even if I didn’t want to), and they always invited me to spend time with them regardless of my increasingly anti-social behaviour. We have all known each other for a long time, we have been through a lot together, and as a result, mental health has become a topic that is easily discussed. I know this is rare among a group of 'mostly' socially awkward early 20-somethings, which only makes me appreciate those closest to me even more. Without my mates I’d look like a rake – you guys have helped me more than you know.  

Nevertheless, I still deal with food insecurity. I like knowing things, probably too much. I love a flat white but am also aware roughly 250 millimetres of milk contains calories almost equivalent to what I typically consume for breakfast. If I have coffee with milk, breakfast will be small — typically fruit or a protein bar. 

When I go to purchase my groceries, I do more reading than shopping. I am far more concerned about macro and micronutrients than I should be, and when shopping for myself, I often disregard taste. Knowledge may be power, but ignorance certainly is bliss. 

Many people associate the rise of eating disorders with social media, and rightly so, it certainly is one of the most prominent factors. That said, for me, social media was never the issue. I became obsessed with watching the number on the scale drop. I gamified my bad habit. I was addicted to losing weight and became careless of whether it was muscle or fat. It was a game of discipline, and I found doing a lot while eating almost nothing was mentally satisfying — it was a little game I created, which I enjoyed playing as it proved I had discipline.

Nutritional ignorance

I have written quite a lot about my ambition to study nutrition science. Recently, however, I have been contemplating whether acquiring advanced nutritional knowledge would help my well-being. Physically, yes, but mentally, I don’t think so. I have learnt quite a bit through reports, YouTube and podcasts. Online sources have taught me the basics: calories and macronutrients, but not a lot about general nutritional science — which, I think, could be a good thing.

Last semester, I finished all my core journalism and international business units. Now I only have electives remaining – I have an opportunity to develop my other interests. For so long, I had planned to utilise these electives to enrich my understanding of nutritional science, but now, blessed with choices, I am concerned that knowing more about nutrition than required will only bolster my already obsessive behaviour.  

This revelation came as a result of several recent conversations, which I won't talk too personally of, however, I will share one scenario. If you think I talk plenty about nutrition and exercise, try talking to a personal trainer. In a conversation with a PT, I mentioned my plans to study nutrition, and she told me she hadn't enjoyed a pastry in more than 20 years.   

Delicious food becomes hard to enjoy once you understand how it affects your body she said.

Honestly, I’m unsure if I’m willing to sacrifice my love for delicious treats for additional nutritional knowledge. The point is, typically notching wisdom is beneficial, although in this case, acquiring advanced nutritional intellect, I believe, would only further tarnish my relationship with food. 

I have a philosophy that if you are planning to indulge — I’m talking 3000+ calorie days — Firstly, you should do this sparingly. Secondly, you must earn it. Roughly once a month, I cook an impressively large serving of pasta, and after I knock it back, I eat a pint of ice cream — it’s my culinary kink. However, I wouldn’t do this willy-nilly. This is a rare luxury I only find enjoyable after burning a minimum of 1000 active calories. I understand this may seem rather psychotic to some, and that’s because it is, especially because I know this is a treat almost anyone could enjoy on occasion. But despite understanding how metabolism works, ‘overeating’ without physical punishment negatively affects my mental well-being, which I have worked hard to preserve.

Although heavy exercise followed by the rare ‘binge’ has provided me with some peace of mind, life is full of unpredictable situations and circumstances which, in the more enjoyable cases, almost always involve delicious food. Often life’s uncertainty will not spare the time to run 10 kilometres and follow it up with a heavy leg session all because you have planned to enjoy a royal feast, and that’s just part of being human. From the nutritionally rational part of my brain, I know if I eat normally 80 per cent of the time, a rare case of overeating is nothing to worry about. Unfortunately, my mind is a great magician, and it keeps my nutritional wisdom hidden and unavailable for my use. Therefore, I can only dream of enjoying the foods I love guilt-free. 

I hate that I love food; I love the smokiness of a loaf of freshly baked bread, and I love to lash out and cook delicious meals for my friends and family. It fills me with joy and always has. But as my ambition has changed, I have noticed that I not only cook less but have also become less appreciative of food in general. These days I perceive freshly baked bread, for instance, as nothing more than carbohydrates. Although, yes, this is technically accurate, I hate how I have adopted this way of thinking.

I want to protect the remaining appreciation and respect I have for food, and I will continue to cook for my friends without keeping My Fitness Pal handy. Most importantly, I do not want to allow myself to be consumed by these habits. I am unsure if studying a unit in nutrition will make my struggle with food insecurity any easier. 

I understand what I can eat and what to avoid for a healthy lifestyle, and honestly, I have come to realise I am okay with not thinking any further than that. Disordered eating almost made me forget what I care about most — being creative.

I refuse to allow nutritional science to steal the jam from donut.