We All Have a Food Story, Here’s Mine
I grew up in a family peppered with food stories and secrets. Candy was sometimes a reward; cookies were there to hold my hand through deep loss, and a steamy bowl of my grandmother’s matzoh ball soup comforted me and made me feel cherished.
Yet, I was also taught that women were not really supposed to like food. Women should always be watching their weight.
Starting at age 11, it was commonplace for me to dabble in the latest diet trend—losing and gaining the weight back, going round and round in a never-ending cycle of diet success and failure.
As I became a teenager, I found myself drawn to the kitchen. I enjoyed cooking and experimenting with recipes—but almost always with a diet focus. My first cookbook was called The No Fat, No Salt, No Sugar Cookbook (doesn’t that sound dreadful?). Losing weight was always the goal.
In high school, my hippyish, health-food-loving aunt came for a visit and showed me that food could be more than fat-free or diet-minded. She introduced me to “foreign” foods like brown rice and tofu and shared their healing properties. I was hooked on the idea that food could be more than the enemy—it could be nourishment.
My journey led me to health-supportive cooking school and clinical nutrition education, where I learned how to help women find their way with food, healing, and making peace with their bodies. It also helped me put evidence into action—especially after an overwhelming diagnosis of multiple sclerosis at 27. That diagnosis made me grateful to be in charge of my kitchen and, armed with knowledge, ready to support my body with food as medicine.
Soon after, the babies came—three of them, very close together (twins, and a third less than two years later). Exhaustion, extra weight, stress, and a whole lot of mindless eating and drinking became part of my daily survival. Although I knew a lot about healthy food and nutrition, I found myself losing my way. Soothing myself with food or wine was a deeply ingrained emotional eating habit. The food stories I had inherited as a young adult came back to take hold.
Sugar and wine failed me every time—leaving me even more tired, with more weight and more frustration.