I haven’t tracked or measured a single ounce of food in years… and NOTHING bad has happened.

I haven’t cut out carbs or sugar. I haven’t weighed out my protein. I haven’t cut an avocado into impossibly small 1/4’s.

Sometimes I cook with cooking spray and other times whatever oil I have on hand- no biggie either way.

And nothing bad has happened.

Quite the opposite, actually. I can eat a brownie mid week and not let it send me into a full on eating frenzy.

I can eat pizza for breakfast and not cry about how “bad” of a decision that was- all the while trusting that my body will tell me that maybe some vegetables will feel really good with lunch. Or maybe not. But most days, yes.

Some days are full of quinoa, kale, and apples and other days have less veggies and more French fries.

Some weekends a beer sounds really good and most weekends it sounds like a horrible idea.

Most days, lifting is the answer for my anxious soul and other days, just a walk or a nap.

I can eat ice cream all alone for no reason- not sad, no breakup, no meltdown- just ice cream because it sounds good- and better yet if it’s peanut butter ice cream, the creamy, full-fat kind; wake up in the morning and pour my first cup of coffee without wondering what the damage might be.

I can eat all the food at Thanksgiving, Friendsgiving, and Christmas and shake my head as the New Years Resolutioners pop up, in desperate search for a fresh start- again, for the 20th year in a row- only to wind up in the same place in 11.5 months only to repeat that whole cycle again and again and again. Meanwhile, I sit back and eat the same way year round.

This is living. It’s as simple and complicated as it sounds. Your body was built to tell you exactly how to eat, when to eat, what to eat, and how much to eat. You have to quiet the noise long enough to reconnect.