The phenomenal Amy Kane aka @amyinhalf on Instagram and TikTok (and a big feature of Oprah's special on the disease of obesity) was the first person who ever introduced me to the term "food noise." And she defined it as obsessions and compulsions surrounding food.
I'm pretty sure I cried when I heard food noise explained, just like Amy did while she explained it to Oprah on national television (more power to her, putting it on the internet is scary enough). No one I knew, either on the internet or IRL, had ever put a name to it before, this overwhelming drive to eat. The drive that I couldn't simply turn off, no matter how many times someone told me it was that simple. That I had to respond to, regardless of how many times I talked and thought about food rationally.
People who don't suffer from any type of eating disorder love to throw out the phrase, "everything in moderation." Until I started taking a GLP-1, that phrase never made any sense to me. There was no moderation. My dad used to say that I was a "runaway train," and it made me feel angry and defensive when he said it. I often said that I would rather not eat at all than eat with any kind of thought to my food choices and portions. Rationally, I knew that I was hurting myself with the quantities of food I was eating and the choices of foods to eat that I was making. But I couldn't stop. As Amy says, it's about way more than just "loving food." Food noise consumed me, and sometimes it didn't even consume me in terms of tangible thought.
Food noise told me that I deserved the food.
I've always been an otherwise responsible person. I was "mature" for my age. I pursued academic excellence (and validation) with fervor that concerned some of the adults in my life. I have dutifully reported for church choir practice every week since I was 16, even singing on holidays when I was home from college. My busy schedule that I currently keep is filled with more than one job, taking care of a two-bedroom apartment, community events, church responsibilities, political campaigns, theatre, and all of the occasions that come with being a member of two families and having lots of friends. But that busy schedule isn't a new fixture in my life.
Different iterations of that busy schedule have shown up in my life since I was in middle school. I'd be lying if I said it was all easy or all fun, because it isn't. And that fact gave me an excuse to eat, express-delivered. I could do it all, and do it well, and show up for everyone whom I needed to show up for and not forget anyone. Sometimes doing it all and doing it well was, and still is, stressful. I needed something to soothe the stress, which seems obvious. But I also needed a reward on those days when the schedule became too stressful. Food noise was right there to tell me that since I was so responsible and committed and hardworking and gave few people any trouble, I deserved the food. It was my reward. One rule I always kept for myself (and still do) is that I never eat dinner before an evening rehearsal, because I want to come home after two or three hours of hard work and reward myself with food. When I didn't receive the external validation I was craving in any given circumstance, food was the validation.
But my schedule has never been my sole stressor. I can remember attending a funeral reception for a family friend where I knew that one of my high school bullies would be present. I experienced tremendous anxiety before arriving, but I knew that I had to show up for the people who were experiencing a loss in spite of the fact that I was anxious and uncomfortable. One of the hallmarks of my own value system is that I always show up. But I promised myself a reward. As soon as I was able to leave that funeral reception after putting on a good face, I drove straight for the nearest McDonald's drive thru and couldn't get to the large fries any faster. After all... I deserved them. What's sad is that I don't even remember eating them.
Food noise didn't let me sit still.
Not only is my schedule busy, but my husband, Anthony, works retail -- leaving him at work on weekends. My schedule usually doesn't let up on weekends either, but I can recall one Saturday or Sunday afternoon shortly after we moved into our apartment. I was seated in my usual place on our couch, trying to knock out social media posts for my freelance clients. But I couldn't focus for too long. The food in the refrigerator and the pantry and the freezer was very much calling to me. Maybe it kept happening because I was at home alone (that's usually when real binges happen). Maybe it kept happening because I didn't really feel like working. Maybe it kept happening because I had agency over what food we brought into our home and I felt I was living my best life with my best food. And maybe I just missed my husband and felt sorry for myself.
It didn't really matter why it was happening. I told myself I would only eat half a box of pizza rolls. A mere ten minutes after I ate that half a box, I was up and off the couch heating up the second half. I just couldn't help myself. And I don't think I was finished eating when the pizza rolls were gone. One part of my brain begged me not to eat any more food. The other part sounded a whole lot like Audrey Two from Little Shop of Horrors... FEED ME! And Audrey Two was way too loud.
That day in my apartment was just one example of how food noise didn't let me sit still.
Food noise made me eat too fast, and then, want "long-lasting" portions.
Sometimes I ate so quickly that I didn't even realize that my portion of food was gone. My dad would call this "mindless eating," and that's exactly what it was.
I'm pretty sure I developed the need (yes, it felt like a need) to have portions that would last a long time while I was in college. I needed to call on my Number-One Study Buddy: you guessed it.... Food! If I was studying between classes, I would head for the cafeteria and use my unlimited meal card to secure what could only be described as a trough of food. I would sit in a corner and study and complete assignments, but the studying did not feel as grueling because I was eating while studying. And thanks to the sheer amount of food I was able to secure with an unlimited meal card, it lasted me for an entire 90-minute study session between classes. If I was studying late into the night, I'd dust off an entire tub of hummus and full bag of pita chips as I wrote top-notch answers to discussion questions. They lasted until I could finally could go to bed. And as a student senator, I was required to complete office hours where constituents could come visit with their concerns. I'd sit in the office for my required two hours, and my friends would deliver the goods -- usually two steak quesadillas and a raspberry slushy from Taco Bell.
Full disclosure: I still have the habit of needing to eat while I work (the above photo was taken in the "before times," but from this year). But, I don't need those large portions anymore that food noise told me I needed. A tub of hummus lasts me a full work week now, instead of one evening. And I don't panic if the food runs out while I'm working.
Food noise celebrated when we were alone.
To return to a point I made earlier... food noise came out to play when I had agency over my food choices. I thought there was freedom in eating the food that I wanted to eat, as dictated to me by food noise. I lived at home for 11 years after I moved back to Long Island from Florida, and I was often embarrassed to bring certain foods into the home of my super health-conscious parents. While I hid the food and the evidence well, there was only so much I could hide.
I can remember one snowy January day when my parents were out of town, and I decided to ransack the supply of pasta in the kitchen cabinets. I think I cooked and ate an entire pound of pasta that day, and I remember the nap I took afterward, feeling so content and what I thought was happy. I celebrated the fact that I could eat an entire pound of pasta with reckless abandon, and no one was there to stop me or criticize it. (Full disclosure: aside from chocolate, pasta is my favorite food in the world, and I'm figuring out ways to incorporate it into my current way of eating -- because I'd never want to give it up completely.)
Food noise kept me from enjoying events.
Thanks to that busy schedule, I attend a lot of events. Weddings, birthday parties, bridal and baby showers, bachelorette parties, communions, confirmations, graduations, political campaign fundraisers, networking mixers, cast parties, church meetings and milestones... you name an event, I have it on my calendar (and that doesn't even take the holiday season into account).
I did not even realize until I started a GLP-1 that I wasn't enjoying my time spent at a large majority of these events. Of course, some events are just boring, regardless of the food. But once the food noise and obsession over the food was gone from my mind, I found myself having more conversations at these events.
Over Memorial Day weekend, I attended a church event where an entire dais of food was mine for the taking. Except... I sat at the table with my choir bestie and one of the children from church who looks up to both of us. We spent a long time looking through pet photos and laughing together. And I wasn't thinking about that dais of food. I was in the moment. I wasn't looking over my shoulder to make sure there were more brownies left after I already had a brownie. While I certainly ate, I didn't even finish my portion of food -- which was already smaller than what I would have helped myself to in the past. I had one brownie, and I was okay. I realized on that day that I hadn't enjoyed events in a long time. Events where food is self-serve have always been another invitation to eat with reckless abandon. I finally felt free. I've attended six events since that one church event, and I enjoyed them all. And I didn't go home to sit in a food coma for hours.
I can only write about what food noise sounded like to me, and it definitely falls under Amy's definition. All of the examples I've cited here don't even cover the full extent of the food noise I have experienced in my lifetime. However, if you experience food noise, it may sound different than my food noise has sounded. That does not make your food noise any less valid. It also doesn't make your food noise your fault, just as my food noise was never my fault. Additionally, food noise is not unique to those who suffer from binge eating disorder or the disease of obesity. Those who suffer from eating disorders such as anorexia and bulimia can experience food noise as well -- it's just of a different variety than mine.
Finding freedom from food noise has been a gift I never knew I needed, a greater gift than any weight loss I'm experiencing. One of the greatest parts of learning about food noise, both from Amy and from other creators and experts, is the realization that I'm not alone in the experience. I created this space to show others, particularly in my home community in Glen Cove, that they aren't alone. While I am not a qualified medical professional or therapist, I am here to listen to your experiences. And we'll fight the food noise and gain freedom together.
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