It’s Not The Food - A Rant

You eat the cake not 'cause you're weak,
But 'cause your brain’s been on repeat —
A looping, blooping jukebox track
Of “I’ll be good tomorrow” crap.

You think you’re “bad with food” — you’re not.
You’ve just internalised a hell of a lot
Of diet talk and toxic scripts
From well-meaning twits with protein tips.

They said:
“Control yourself, just eat less bread!”
Meanwhile, you’ve got chaos in your head —
A tangle of thoughts that feel so real:
“I deserve this,”
“Screw it,”
“Let’s just not feel.”

It’s not willpower — that’s pseudoscience fluff,
A blame-the-brain game when life gets tough.
It’s your prefrontal cortex vs. dopamine hits,
An ancient survival loop throwing toddler-sized fits.
Wired to seek sugar, salt, fat and applause,
Not macros, beach bodies or intermittent fasting laws.

Your thoughts, dear friend, are running the show,
From the moment you wake to the late-night low —
The fridge door glows like a priest in a pew,
And you’re not hungry — you’re just… you.

Thinking.
Worrying.
Stuffing your face
To pacify thoughts you never dare face.

Because what if you are the girl who always fails?
What if you can’t be trusted near baked goods or sales?
What if all this is true — this mess, this shame —
And food is just the part that gets the blame?

(Spoiler alert: That’s bollocks.)

You are not broken.
You are not weak.
You are not the sum of the shit you repeat.
Your thoughts are just habits that calcified young —
Like nursery rhymes, only way less fun.

You learnt:
To eat when you’re sad.
To snack when you’re bored.
To fear carbs like they’re Voldemort.
To binge in the dark
And swear you’ll reform
And start over Monday, reborn, transformed —
Only to crack at the scent of a scone,
Then spiral into guilt like you’ve done something wrong.

But you didn’t.
You’re just…
thinking.

In patterns.
In loops.
In well-worn grooves
That say food equals love
Or distraction
Or proof
That you’re failing again
So you might as well eat
’Cause what’s one more muffin
When you’re already beat?

But what if you’re not the one who fails?
What if you’re not doomed to food-related tales
Of angst and regret and late-night despair —
What if the villain…
is the voice in there?

What if you could change it?
Not with celery juice,
But with thought work, awareness,
And slightly less noose?

What if the brain —
That weird, wrinkled blob —
Wasn’t trying to kill you
But just doing its job?

What if, instead of fighting your head,
You rewired the story you’ve always been fed?
What if the girl who hides snacks in her drawer
Isn’t bad — she’s just scared
And deserves a bit more?

This tale’s not about rules or counting your peas,
Or replacing your cravings with herbal teas.
It’s about seeing the thought,
Naming it loud,
Choosing a better one —
Standing proud.

Because maybe you can eat when you’re hungry and stop —
Not because some diet app told you to drop
20 kilos and your will to live,
But because you’ve got better thoughts to give.

So if you’re ready to question the thoughts in your head,
To rewrite the scripts that have filled you with dread,
To stop blaming food and start thinking anew…

Then darling.
Pull up a chair.
Let’s begin with you.

(Pause)
And maybe a snack.
But this time, let’s make it conscious.
Not… compulsive.