What are you ‘really’ hungry for?
Here’s the thing no one tells you when you’re knee-deep in calorie trackers and influencer-endorsed almond-flour regrets:
You can know everything… and still feel stuck as hell.
I’ve worked with women who could teach nutrition at this point. They’ve memorised macros, decoded labels like cryptographers, counted more calories than a MyFitnessPal addict on a cleanse.
They could write a f*cking thesis on low-GI carbohydrates.
Some have.
And yet…
They still find themselves face-first in a bag of popcorn on a random Tuesday night, wondering how the hell they got there.
It’s not because they’re lazy.
It’s not because they “don’t want it badly enough.”
And it’s definitely not because they haven’t read enough diet books.
It’s because they’re asking the wrong question.
Not what to eat.
Not when to eat.
Not how much to eat.
But why the hell they’re eating in the first place.
Diet Culture: A Masterclass in Missing the Point
The multi-billion-dollar diet industry loves to keep you focused on your plate.
Obsess about the number.
Track the thing.
Avoid the carb.
Feel the shame.
It's like being told your house is on fire and responding by rearranging the throw pillows.
And when their plan doesn’t “work”—and by work, I mean keep you thin, happy, energised and craving-free for the rest of your life—they don’t go,
“Oh hey, maybe our advice was simplistic horsesh*t designed to sell books.”
No, no. They go:
“You failed. You didn’t try hard enough. Have you considered willpower?”
Willpower, that slippery unicorn they dangle in front of you like some kind of mystical force only available to monks, astronauts and people with meal-prep containers shaped like hexagons.
It's Not a Food Problem
So let me offer you a radical idea:
You don’t have a food problem.
You have a non-food hunger.
That insatiable, gnawing need for something more—a need you’re trying to fill with cookies because cookies are easier to access than existential fulfilment.
Let’s not pretend this is about needing a snack.
You’re not craving a rice cake. You’re craving rest.
You’re not peckish for protein. You’re starved for permission.
Permission to rest.
Permission to dream.
Permission to be f*cking human.
What Are You Really Hungry For?
Most of my clients come to me in a state of quiet starvation.
Not for calories—but for comfort.
For connection.
For silence.
For purpose.
For something that isn’t just another loop of the same damn week on repeat.
They feel stuck.
Bored.
Overstretched.
Under-fulfilled.
Buried beneath endless to-do lists and obligations and that awful background noise that sounds like, “This is your life now.”
And so, they eat.
Because eating is easy.
It’s accessible.
It's legal.
And it works… sort of.
It gives you a flicker of satisfaction, a whisper of joy, a moment of silence.
Until it doesn’t.
Until the food is gone and you're left with a full stomach and an emptiness that snacks can’t touch.
The Emotional Equation
Every time you head to the fridge, every time your hand floats to the pantry like it’s being guided by some carbohydrate-seeking spirit guide—pause.
Ask yourself this:
What’s actually going on here?
There are only two real answers:
You’re physically hungry. (Cool. Eat. Nourish. Carry on.)
You’re not. You’re emotionally hungry. And food is your current solution.
Except food isn’t the solution.
It’s a stand-in. A decoy.
A polite bouncer keeping your deeper needs from entering the party.
So dig.
Ask:
What am I actually hungry for?
Is it comfort?
Relief?
Touch?
Freedom?
Meaning?
Are you lonely?
Pissed off?
Utterly overstimulated and just want everyone to shut up for 30 minutes?
Are you using snacks as an escape hatch from a life that feels like a treadmill built entirely out of obligations?
Food Is Not a Therapist
Food is f*cking brilliant. Let’s not pretend otherwise.
It’s joy, culture, celebration and the highlight of many days.
But food is not a therapist.
It can’t solve your boredom.
It can’t fulfil your career dreams.
It can’t wrap its arms around you and whisper, “You’re okay, love, I’ve got you.”
Only you can do that.
Stop Filling the Void. Start Feeding the Soul.
Next time you find yourself halfway through a block of chocolate with no memory of opening the wrapper, stop.
Not to shame yourself.
Not to declare another food funeral.
But to listen.
What does your soul want right now?
What does your heart ache for that your mouth is trying to solve?
When you start answering that question—not with food, but with truth—everything changes.
And yes, it’s messy.
Yes, it’s confronting.
Yes, it might involve a midlife epiphany in aisle 7 of Woolies. (Been there.)
But it’s worth it.
Because discovering what you’re really hungry for?
That’s the beginning of everything.
If you’re tired of trying to fill the void with calories and want to figure out what would actually satisfy you—
Get in touch.
I’d love to help you stop feeding the symptom and finally nourish the source.