Being Your Own Best Friend

"The one who stays by your side and finds a home in your heart is indeed a true friend."

ANONYMOUS

How can I befriend my body when it feels like a distant relative? I can't get rid of it, but I don't enjoy its company. And food is like an illicit lover. I'm always thinking about it, even when I don't want to. I don't even know what a healthy relationship between food and body is. What do you mean?

Imagine eating — or not eating — with a sense of harmony and balance because you're firmly connected to your feelings and needs. You know what choices to make in every moment. You eat in moderation, moving away from the table easily, without hassle, guilt, or the inclination to manipulate yourself into starvation. You savor six chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven on occasion without blame or shame. You step on a scale once in a while out of curiosity. You don't cringe and avoid the scale, and you're not wedded to weighing a certain number on the scale either. Instead, you're enjoying every sensual flavor of food — and of life, too.

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I need to diet, or I'll be out of control. Not being on a diet sounds scary and too good to be true. I can't eat chocolate chip cookies and lose weight.

Robert Fritz once said, "Diet is a path of feast resistance." Looking for a fight? Deprive yourself of all the flavors and textures you've come to love, and keep yourself in a perpetual state of hunger.

According to Fritz, the word diet is synonymous to many with starving yourself. You feel hungry because you are hungry. "There will always be a discrepancy between the actual amount of food your body is consuming and the amount of food your body wants. Solely counting and restricting calories to lose weight doesn't provide lasting results. But it's one surefire way to kick in your obsession about all the food you shouldn't be eating."

When you count calories and restrict your intake you will inevitably come to the place where you just can't stand measuring one more teaspoon of garlic sour cream mashed potatoes. Or you can't bear to watch your husband eat another bowl of peach ice cream, making "Mmmm ..." sounds with every spoonful. So you indulge. You not only eat the six gooey chocolate chip cookies, you eat the whole tray, the peach ice cream, and all the garlic mashed potatoes, and a bag of chips, too, for that satisfying crunch. That unleashes the dreaded shoulds. You should eat differently. You know better. Shape up. You should lose weight. "Look at me. I'm a fat pig. I can't even control myself." This outburst is followed quickly by "Screw yo