Your Inner Food Critics

(Why One Biscuit Shouldn’t Trigger an Existential Crisis)

Ever notice how a single bite of cake can unleash a full-blown performance in your head?
Not applause. Not delight.
More like a panel of disapproving voices holding up scorecards and whispering, “Well, that’s going straight to your thighs.”

You sit down with some pasta — not hurting anyone, not declaring war — and boom:
“Are you really eating all of that?”
“No wonder nothing fits.”
“Weren’t you just hungry five minutes ago?”
“Great. Now you’ve ruined the day. Might as well eat the whole fridge.”

Classic Inner Food Critic move.
She’s relentless.
And she doesn’t even like food — she just has opinions about it.

Sometimes she’s loud and mean.
Sometimes she’s subtle and “concerned.”
But the theme’s always the same: You shouldn’t have. You should do better. This was wrong.

Let’s be clear:
It’s not really about the biscuit. Or the pasta.
It’s about control. Fear. The illusion of perfection.

Your mind wants certainty. And when it doesn’t get it, it gets noisy.
So it grabs hold of food, because food is visible and easy to blame.

But here’s the real kicker:
That critic in your head?
She’s not actually you.

Let’s Meet the Cast

Because, of course, it’s not just one voice.
It’s a full inner drama club, complete with costumes and dramatic lighting.

🧐 Comparison Carla — Reminds you how your friend’s salad looked better on Instagram.
⚫ All-or-Nothing Amy — Thinks one biscuit means total moral collapse.
📋 Should-ing Sharon — Keeps a clipboard of food rules from the 1990s.
🔄 Blaming Betty — Somehow connects your lunch choice to your entire life’s trajectory.
🌪 Doomsday Dana — Predicts a muffin today means a meltdown tomorrow.
☁ Hopeless Henrietta — Thinks “Why bother?” is a valid nutritional strategy.

These voices?
They’re not facts.
They’re habits. Scripts.
Old recordings playing through a brain that just wants to keep you safe — and doesn’t know how.

The Good News: You Don’t Have to Believe Them

When you hear the critic, you don’t need to silence her.
You just need to see her.

That changes everything.

Say:
“Oh, hi again, Amy. I see we’re back to catastrophising over toast.”
Or:
“Thanks for the input, Sharon. I’ll be ignoring you today.”

See, the critic loves when you fight her.
But she fades when you recognise she’s just… noise.

What Helps?

🎤 Name the voice.
Give it a face, a name, a dramatic backstory if you want. But see it for what it is: a thought, not a truth.

🔉 Turn the volume down.
No need to shout over her. Just stop giving her the mic.

💬 Choose a better thought.
“This is a meal, not a moral failing.”
“My body knows what it needs — I can trust that.”
“I don’t need to earn or justify my food.”

❤️ Be kind on purpose.
Especially when kindness feels unfamiliar. Especially when you “don’t deserve it.”
(That’s when you need it most.)

One More Thing

You’re not failing because you hear the critic.
We all hear her.

But the moment you stop taking her seriously —
The moment you see her as part of a mind doing its thing —
You’ve already stepped into something far more powerful:
Awareness.

And awareness doesn’t judge your lunch.
It just sees it. Enjoys it. Moves on.

So next time you hear the mental theatre start up,
You don’t have to boo or rewrite the script.
You can just roll your eyes, take a bite and let it pass.

Because it always does.