The Committee of Eaters: A Dysfunctional Board Meeting in Your Brain
Right, let’s address the kangaroo in the kitchen, shall we?
You’re not hungry.
Not even a little bit.
You ate lunch. You’re not fading. Your stomach isn’t growling like a cranky wombat.
And yet… somehow… you find yourself standing in front of the pantry, gazing into the abyss like it’s going to reveal the secrets of the universe.
But instead of enlightenment, you see a half-eaten packet of Tim Tams and a jar of peanut butter with a spoon already in it (from last time, obviously).
Why are you even here?
Let me tell you why.
Because you are not alone.
You have company.
A full-blown committee, actually.
Living rent-free in your head and holding emergency board meetings every time you walk past the fridge.
Introducing… The Committee of Eaters
They’re like Parliament, but with less order and more crumbs.
And when they meet? Oh, it’s a bloody circus.
Picture this:
It’s 4:17pm.
You’re feeling a bit meh. Not tragic, not joyful. Just… emotionally beige.
And suddenly the pantry starts whispering sweet nothings.
Meeting called to order! Everyone take your seats!
1. The Rebel
Leaning back in their chair like they own the place. Mismatched socks. Crumbs in their beard. Possibly holding a wine glass.
"Mate, you’ve had a day. You deserve a reward. Just one biscuit. Or five. Don’t be boring. Don’t let The Nerd win again."
2. The Nutrition Nerd
Clipboard, reading glasses, smug aura. Probably did a nutrition degree online “for fun.”
"You are not physically hungry. The science is clear. This is emotional eating. We should wait until your ghrelin levels rise. I've got charts!"
3. Captain Killjoy
The human embodiment of a “Before” photo. Lives in a permanent state of pursed lips and moral superiority.
"Really? Biscuits? AGAIN? Remember how crap you felt last time? This is why your jeans are tight and your soul is tired."
4. The Therapist
Soft voice, kind eyes, the emotional equivalent of a wheat bag and a cup of tea.
"Sweetheart, you’re clearly emotionally dysregulated. That biscuit is just a hug in chocolate form. Let yourself have it. In fact, have two—inner child work is hard."
5. The Rational Moderator
Tries to mediate. Fails spectacularly.
"Okay team, let’s just take a beat. Let’s consider the facts—no need to be dramatic, Rebel—and please stop throwing sultanas."
What Happens When the Committee Takes Over?
It usually ends the way all chaotic group chats do:
The loudest voice wins.
Spoiler alert: it’s almost always The Rebel.
They’ve got swagger, charm and zero concern for consequences.
They get what they want. And what they want is snacks.
So you eat the biscuit. Or the chocolate. Or whatever comfort food is on hand.
And the very moment the crumbs hit your tongue—
BOOM. Captain Killjoy chimes in.
"See? That wasn’t even hunger. No signs. No stomach rumbling. No blood sugar drop. Just feelings you didn’t want to feel. Congratulations, you’ve failed at satiety."
Ah yes. The sweet taste of regret. With notes of shame and a lingering aftertaste of Why am I like this?
But Here’s the Kicker: You’re Not Broken
This whole scene?
It’s not a personal failing. It’s not about willpower.
It’s about wiring. Human wiring.
When life feels like it’s punching you gently in the soul, your brain—clever little survival machine that it is—sends you straight to the pantry.
Because food is predictable. Food is comforting. Food doesn’t judge you for not answering your emails or snapping at your kids or crying at any ad featuring puppies.
So no, emotional eating is not about discipline. It’s about needs.
Unmet ones. Unspoken ones. Uncomfortable ones.
The cookie isn’t the problem.
It’s the symptom.
How to Keep the Committee from Stage-Diving into the Biscuit Tin
1. Take a Pause
Radical idea, I know. But before you put hand to snack, just… pause.
One breath. Maybe two.
Don’t run. Don’t resist. Just notice.
Think of it as eavesdropping on the Committee instead of letting them hijack the intercom.
2. Check the Hunger Signals
Ask:
Is my stomach actually growling?
Do I feel low on energy?
Or do I feel… twitchy? Lonely? Bored? Pissed off because someone used up all the almond milk and didn’t say anything?
Name the feeling. It’s harder to soothe with food when you know it’s not actually food you need.
3. Surf the Urge
Urges are like waves. They build, they peak, they pass.
You don’t have to act on them.
Just sit on your little surfboard of awareness and ride it out.
Pro tip: don’t try to surf while in the pantry. Tempting, but wildly unproductive.
4. Ditch the Guilt, Embrace Curiosity
Captain Killjoy thinks guilt is motivational.
It’s not. It’s paralysing.
Try this instead:
"Huh. I wonder what that was really about?"
And then respond like you would to a friend, not a dictator.
Because true change doesn’t come from shame. It comes from understanding.
Final Thoughts: Let’s De-Throne the Drama
You’re not a robot.
You’re not meant to only eat when the hunger dial hits 0 and your stomach sounds like an angry cat.
Food is pleasure. Culture. Connection. Sometimes therapy in edible form.
So if The Rebel wins now and then? That’s fine.
This isn’t about silencing the Committee. It’s about listening better. Responding more kindly. Reclaiming your seat at the head of the table.
Because you get to be the Chairperson now.
Not the cookies. Not the critics. Not even The Nerd with their clipboard.
So go ahead. Call a meeting.
Bring snacks if you want.
But just remember—you get the final vote.
Now tell me—who’s on your Committee of Eaters?
And more importantly, are they wearing pants?