Rebellion Eating

You know that moment when you think, thank god it’s Friday?

It’s not really about Friday.

It’s about the week you’ve just survived.

All week you’ve been “good.”
Egg whites. Salads. Chicken that’s been boiled of all personality.
You’ve done what you said you’d do.
And you’re tired.

By Friday afternoon, something in you isn’t craving food so much as freedom.

So you go out. You have a drink. You tell yourself two will be plenty.
And for a while, that feels true.

Until it doesn’t.

Another drink appears. Then another.
Someone mentions burgers.

At first, your mind says no.
Not because you don’t like burgers — you love them — but because burgers don’t fit the story of who you’ve been all week.

And this is where things quietly tip.

You negotiate.
“I’ll just eat the burger patty.”
“No chips.”
“No bun.”

The plan feels sensible. Responsible. Do-able.

Then the food arrives.

And suddenly you notice how hungry you are.
Not just physically — though that too — but hungry in a deeper way.

You eat a few chips.

They taste amazing.

And then the thought appears.
The one that always appears at this point:

“Well… I’ve blown it now.”

And in that moment, it’s no longer about hunger or taste or enjoyment.
It’s about rebellion.

If the rules are broken, they may as well be really broken.

So you eat. Quickly. Almost urgently.
Not fully present enough to enjoy it.
Too present with the thinking to stop.

Later, you feel uncomfortable. Full. Bloated.
And your mind starts planning the repair job.

“Tomorrow I’ll be good again.”
“I’ll undo this.”
“I’ll fix it.”

The next morning, the scales offer their opinion.
And the mind obliges with a familiar soundtrack.

This is impossible.
I’ll never lose the weight.
I don’t really care anyway.

None of this is about food.

What’s actually happening here is very simple — and very human.

When you live with a lot of rules, effort and self-control around eating, food starts to carry emotional charge.
We start to see food as powerful — but it’s not. Thought is.

Rules create pressure.
Pressure creates resistance.
And resistance looks like rebellion.

When there’s something you mustn’t have, part of you inevitably wants it more.
It’s part of the human condition.
There’s even a name for it: the forbidden fruit effect.

People who don’t diet aren’t better at willpower, they’re not more disciplined or secretly white-knuckling their way through life. They simply don’t have rules to push against.

Without rules, there’s nothing to rebel from.
Without rebellion, there’s no “what the hell” moment.
Without urgency, food loses its emotional charge.

They eat when they’re hungry.
They stop when they’re full.
Sometimes they eat more than they need.
Sometimes they leave food behind without giving it a second thought.

When it comes to food, their minds are quieter.

This is the part that often gets missed.

The alternative to dieting isn’t giving up.
It isn’t resignation.
It isn’t living in stretchy pants while pretending you’re fine.

It’s understanding what’s actually driving the cycle.

The issue isn’t burgers.
Or wine.
Or menopause.
Or discipline.

It’s the belief that you need to control yourself to be okay.

But control means constantly fighting your own mind.

Your body already knows how to regulate.
It always has.

The more you listen, the clearer it becomes.
The less you interfere, the better it works.

There’s nothing you need to force here.
Nothing you need to rebel against.
Nothing you need to fix.

Just something very simple to notice.

And once you see it, you can’t really unsee it.