Protein Powder

I never thought I'd be writing about protein powder. Years ago, I didn't even know what it was. Following health trends simply because they're trending has never been my style. I've never believed there's one magic food that everyone needs. My philosophy has always been simple: eat real food, listen to your body, and leave the food rules behind.

That hasn't changed.

But what has changed... is me.

Over the past few years, my body has been through a lot. Menopause. Back surgery. Months of physical therapy. Learning how to move again. Rebuilding both physical and mental strength. My mantra during this time became STRONG.

These experiences have taught me something I remind my clients of all the time: our bodies are always changing. And if we're truly practicing intuitive eating, we have to be willing to listen when those needs change.

For me, one of those changes was realizing I probably wasn't eating enough protein. Not because I was trying to lose weight. Not because I wanted bigger muscles. Simply because I wanted to feel stronger.

As I returned to the gym after surgery, I noticed how important recovery became. My workouts weren't about pushing harder anymore. They were about rebuilding confidence in my body. I wanted to protect my bones, maintain muscle, and have enough energy to enjoy my day. While protein had become the latest buzzword, what really caught my attention was hearing the same message from both my doctors and my physical therapist: as we recover and as we age, getting enough protein matters.

Like many women, I thought I was eating enough. But when I paid closer attention, not by counting every gram (I'm not a numbers person), but by honestly looking at my meals, I realized there were days when I wasn't even close.

One of the things I love most about intuitive eating is that it gives us permission to change our minds as our bodies change. That's when protein powder entered the picture. Not as a replacement for meals. Definitely not as a diet. And certainly not because it was all over my social media feed. It simply became another tool. And I have to admit, I really do love all the different flavors.

Some mornings after the gym, I blend a scoop into a smoothie, and it helps bridge the gap until my next meal. Other days, when life gets busy and lunch is delayed, I'm so glad I had it. It's simply practical. And honestly, that's what I appreciate most about it.

One of the greatest gifts intuitive eating has given me is freedom from perfection. I simply want to nourish my body in a way that feels realistic and sustainable. And for me, protein powder has become one of the tools that helps me do that.

I still believe whole foods come first. Eggs, fish, chicken, beans, tofu, Greek yogurt, cottage cheese, nuts, and seeds all offer so much more than protein alone. They provide fiber, vitamins, minerals, and the satisfaction that comes from eating a real meal.

But life isn't perfect. Sometimes I need convenience without guilt. Sometimes I need support instead of another rule. And that's exactly what a supplement is meant to be.

One thing I've learned through menopause, surgery, and simply getting older is that listening to our bodies sometimes means letting go of old beliefs. What worked for me at 35 isn't necessarily what works at 58. That's not failure. That's wisdom. Your body may not be asking for protein powder. It may be asking for more rest, more movement, more joy, or simply more nourishment. The beauty of intuitive eating is that there isn't one right answer. There is only the practice of listening. And sometimes, really listening is the healthiest thing we can do.

Whatever your body is asking for today, I hope you'll trust yourself enough to listen.

Loud Noise

When the Noise Gets Loud, Listen to Yourself

The news this past week has been nothing but scary. I am listening to my local reporters tell me to stay inside because the air quality is dangerous from the Canadian forest fires and to stop eating salads because of a cyclospora outbreak, a parasite linked to contaminated fresh produce in several states.

Am I letting all the noise take over?

No.

That doesn't mean I ignore the information. I pay attention. I wash my fruits and veggies carefully. I may choose where I buy it a little more thoughtfully. If the air quality is poor, I move my exercise indoors or shorten my time outside. Being informed is different from being overwhelmed by every headline.

But it did get me thinking about how easy it is to let outside noise drown out our own inner wisdom when it comes to our health.

For years, so many of us have been taught that there is always something to worry about when it comes to food. One week we hear that eggs are bad. The next week they're good. Coffee is unhealthy until it's suddenly protective. Carbs are the enemy until someone tells us we need more whole grains. Social media doesn't help. Every scroll seems to introduce another ingredient we should eliminate or another "healthy" food we should suddenly question. It can become exhausting.

One of the greatest gifts intuitive eating has given me is the ability to pause before reacting. Instead of asking, What should I worry about now? I ask, What information is actually useful to me? There's a difference.

The noise is loud. Wisdom is quiet. The noise tells us to throw everything away, to avoid entire food groups, to never trust our bodies. Wisdom reminds us that our bodies are incredibly resilient. It reminds us that one meal, one news story, or one social media post doesn't define our health. And the same is true beyond food.

We are constantly surrounded by messages competing for our attention. The economy. The weather. Our bodies. Aging. Politics. Disease. While many of these concerns are real, living with constant mental noise takes a toll. It affects our sleep, our digestion, our relationships, and yes, even our relationship with food. Intuitive living isn't about pretending difficult things don't exist. It's about responding instead of reacting. It's learning to gather information without allowing every headline or opinion to dictate how we live. That doesn't mean being careless. It means being thoughtful. It means trusting yourself enough to make reasonable decisions without allowing outside noise to become the loudest voice in the room.

As I sat eating my salad this week, I smiled and I simply enjoyed my lunch, grateful for fresh food and recognizing that living well has never been about eliminating every possible risk. Life simply doesn't work that way. Health isn't built on perfection or certainty. It's built on consistency, flexibility, connection, movement, nourishment, and self-trust.

The headlines will change next week. They always do. If you've noticed that all the noise has started making your decisions for you, whether around food, your health, or simply living your life, know that you're not alone. It can be incredibly difficult to know which voices to trust when there is so much conflicting information coming at us every day. My hope is that you learn to trust one voice a little more than all the others: your own. And if you've lost touch with that voice, that's okay too. Sometimes we all need a little guidance finding our way back. Learning to trust yourself again is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, and it's a journey you don't have to take alone.

Healthy Summer Tips

Savor Summer's Harvest—Safely

I love summer time for the fresh fruits and vegetables. People have stopped me and asked what they should eat given new reports of a widespread Cyclospora outbreak, a parasite that has been linked to contaminated fresh produce in several states. Diarrhea, stomach cramps, nausea, and fatigue are all what has been reported. This is definitely not something I want to get! But, if you listen to our health officials, while they continue investigating the source, they are not recommending that people avoid fruits and vegetables altogether. Instead, they encourage us to practice good food safety while continuing to enjoy these incredibly nourishing foods. One of the greatest gifts of intuitive eating is learning to trust our bodies while also respecting them. That means nourishing ourselves with the abundance that summer offers without letting fear take over.

For me, summer eating has never been about following a "beach body" diet. It's about taking advantage of foods that are at their seasonal best. I love the perfectly ripe tomatoes and the juicy flavorful peaches. I love making a colorful salad filled with local vegetables. These foods nourish not only our bodies but also our senses.

That said, this is also a good reminder that healthy eating isn't just about what we eat, it's also about how we care for our food.

A few simple habits can go a long way:

• Wash your hands before preparing meals.

• Rinse all fruits and vegetables thoroughly under cool running water, even those with peels you don't eat, like melons.

• Use a clean produce brush for firm vegetables such as cucumbers or potatoes.

• Keep washed produce separate from raw meat, poultry, and seafood to avoid cross-contamination.

• Refrigerate cut fruits and vegetables promptly.

These aren't restrictive rules. They're simple acts of self-care.

I also encourage clients not to let scary headlines push them back toward food fear. Diet culture has spent years teaching us to distrust food. Intuitive eating teaches us something very different: gather information, make thoughtful choices, and move forward without anxiety.

No food carries a guarantee. There are occasional recalls involving lettuce, berries, eggs, peanut butter, and even frozen foods. The goal isn't to eliminate risk completely, that's impossible. The goal is to stay informed, practice reasonable precautions, and continue eating a varied, nourishing diet.

Summer is far too beautiful to spend worrying about every bite. So, continue to visit the farmers' market. Fill your plate with colorful produce. Enjoy watermelon on the beach, berries with breakfast, grilled vegetables at dinner, and peaches for dessert. Let food remain a source of pleasure, nourishment, and connection.

Healthy eating has always been about balance, not perfection. This summer, let both guide your choices. Enjoy the season, respect your food, and trust that small, mindful habits can help keep both your body and your peace of mind healthy.

The Three B's

The other morning, I caught myself rushing through my day before it had even begun.

My coffee was brewing, I was unloading my dishwasher while at the same time folding my laundry, checking my phone, and mentally making lists of everything I wanted to accomplish. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m! 

This was unsettling as I had skipped over the quiet moments that I usually treasure.

I stopped. I sat down. It made me wonder how often we confuse movement with progress.

And I wrote down on a piece of paper that I keep my my desk these three simple words: balance, breathing, and being.

“Balance” isn't something I believe we achieve once and then hold onto forever. It's more like standing on one foot. We wobble. We adjust. We lean too far in one direction, notice it, and with effort, we find our way back.

Some days balance means exercising and making a home cooked meal. Other days it means canceling plans, ordering takeout, and laying down for a bit.

For so many years, I thought balance meant eating perfectly, exercising consistently, and managing every responsibility with ease.

Now I see balance very differently. It's allowing life to ebb and flow without believing we've failed every time things feel a little off.

“Breathing” has become my favorite way to return to that place.

When I notice myself feeling overwhelmed, anxious, or disconnected, I don't always need another strategy. Often, I simply need one slow breath and then a few more.

Breathing reminds us that our bodies already know how to care for us. It grounds our nervous system, quiets the mental chatter, and brings us back to the only place we can actually live, the present moment.

It's amazing how one intentional breath can interrupt a spiral of worry or self-criticism.

And then there's “Being”.

This may be the hardest one of all. I listened to my daughter describe her friend. She said “she gets it all done, she’s a go-getter”. We're taught to measure ourselves by how productive we are. We celebrate doing, achieving, fixing, and improving. But somewhere along the way, many of us forget how to “simply be”. To sit outside without reaching for our phones.To enjoy a meal without multitasking. To spend time with people we love without thinking about what's next. To appreciate our bodies for carrying us through another day instead of wishing to change.

Being doesn't mean giving up on growth. It means recognizing that we are worthy even while we're still growing. Intuitive eating has taught me that this is true not only with food but with life itself. We don't have to micromanage every bite, every workout, every emotion, or every moment to feel good. Sometimes, the healthiest thing we can do is breathe deeply, trust ourselves, and remember that balance is not in perfection.

This week, I invite you to notice your own three Bs. Where could you create a little more balance? When could you pause for one intentional breath? And how might your day change if you gave yourself permission to simply be?

You may find that everything you've been searching for isn't something you have to chase. It may already be waiting for you in the next breath.

I Need a Moment

Staying Grounded During the Busy Summer Holiday Season

The other day, my girlfriend and I were talking about summer, and we both laughed when we realized we felt exactly the same way: we love it... and it wears us out.

There's something about summer holidays that holds both joy and exhaustion at once. Whether it's the Fourth of July, long weekends at the beach, family barbecues, vacations, or simply trying to soak up every bit of sunshine, summer has a way of accelerating everything. Calendars fill. Routines fall away. Bedtimes shift later. Meals become spontaneous. Before long, we've moved from one gathering to the next without pausing to check in with ourselves.

I used to think feeling "off" after a holiday meant I'd eaten the wrong things or fallen out of a healthy routine.

Now I know better.

More often than not, what I need isn't a “cleanse” or a reset. I simply need to feel grounded again.

Grounding doesn't have to be complicated. It's usually found in the smallest moments. For me, that looks like waking up a little earlier to enjoy my coffee before the house stirs. Taking a walk before the day picks up momentum. Sitting outside for a few minutes, noticing the morning light or the sound of the birds, before reaching for my phone.

One of the most valuable gifts intuitive eating has given me is the habit of checking in with myself throughout the day, not just "am I hungry?" but "what do I actually need right now?" Sometimes the answer is food. Sometimes it's rest. Sometimes it's movement. Sometimes it's quiet.

Summer has a way of making it feel like the answer should always be yes, to every invitation, every cookout, every late night, every dessert, every activity. Staying grounded means remembering that "no" is a complete sentence. It also means remembering that I always have a choice.

I can enjoy the barbecue without feeling obligated to clean my plate. I can leave the party when I'm tired. I can skip an activity if my body is asking for rest. I can choose presence over perfection.

As the pace of summer continues, my hope isn't to make it through perfectly. My goal is simply to stay connected to myself while enjoying everything the season has to offer. Because health isn't about perfectly following a routine, it's about carrying a sense of balance within yourself. And sometimes the healthiest thing I can do during a busy holiday weekend is pause, take a deep breath, and remember that I don't have to lose myself in order to enjoy the celebration.

If this season has you feeling scattered, disconnected from your body, or unsure how to find your footing again, you don't have to navigate it alone. Learning to slow down, trust yourself, and reconnect with what you truly need is a process, and one that becomes much easier with the right support. Whether you're working through your relationship with food, feeling overwhelmed by life's demands, or simply looking to feel more grounded, I am here to help.

Wishing you a summer filled not with perfection, but with presence.

Healthy doesn't always look Healthy

Healthy Doesn't Always Look Healthy

The other day, I got on a horse for the first time in years. He was tall, gentle, and, as I soon learned, carrying a little extra weight around his middle. Before I climbed into the saddle, the rancher casually mentioned that he was on a special diet. His hay had to be soaked in water to remove some of the sugars because he was prone to metabolic issues.

I couldn't help but laugh. My first thought was, Even the horses are on diets now?

But as he explained, I realized this had nothing to do with the horse's appearance. It wasn't about making him thinner. It was about keeping him healthy. His diet was tailored to his unique health needs, not to how he looked.

That conversation stuck with me because it reminded me how often we confuse health with appearance. We assume we can look at someone and know whether they're healthy. We praise people for looking "fit" without knowing what's happening beneath the surface, and we judge others who don't fit society's image of health.

The truth is, healthy doesn't always look healthy. And looking healthy doesn't always mean you are.

Somewhere along the way, we've confused the appearance of health with health itself. We assume that if someone is thin, exercises every day, drinks green juice, and orders the salad, they must be healthy. On the flip side, we often assume that someone in a larger body or someone who enjoys dessert couldn't possibly be taking care of themselves.

As both a therapist and an intuitive eating counselor, I've learned that what we see on the outside rarely tells the whole story. I've worked with people who looked like the picture of health while privately struggling with food anxiety, compulsive exercise, chronic stress, poor sleep, or an exhausting need to control every bite they ate. Their bodies may have appeared healthy, but their relationship with themselves was anything but.

I've also met people who don't fit society's narrow definition of health who nourish themselves well, move their bodies with joy, prioritize rest, cultivate meaningful relationships, and live with far more peace.

Health isn't a look. It's a way of living. Yes, nutritious food matters. Our bodies thrive on foods that provide energy and nourishment. But nutrition is only one piece of the puzzle. Health also includes quality sleep, managing stress, joyful movement, meaningful relationships, laughter, purpose, and giving ourselves permission to rest. Sometimes the healthiest choice isn't ordering the salad. Sometimes it's saying yes to dinner with friends, taking a day off from the gym, or eating birthday cake because celebrating someone you love nourishes you in ways no nutrient chart can measure.

The healthiest people I know aren't the ones who never eat dessert or never miss a workout. They're the ones who have built balanced lives. They care for their bodies, but they also care for their minds, their relationships, and their spirits.

True health isn't something you wear. It's something you live.

The Things that Feed Me

The other morning, I woke up feeling a little off. Nothing was wrong exactly, but I felt unsettled. In the past, I might have wandered into the kitchen out of sheer habit, ooking for something to eat without giving it much thought. These days, however, I've become much more aware that what feeds me isn't always food.

In fact, I've never really been an emotional eater. If anything, I'm often the opposite. But one of the greatest gifts intuitive eating has given me is the understanding that hunger isn't always about food. Sometimes what I'm craving has nothing to do with what's on my plate and everything to do with what's missing somewhere else in my life.

Lately, I've been paying attention to a different kind of nourishment.

Every morning, I start my day with a bottle of water and either a long walk or a trip to the gym. While the movement is certainly good for my body, I've realized that what feeds me most isn't the workout itself. It's the familiar faces I see each morning. The smiles. The quick conversations. The feeling that I belong somewhere. It is the sense of community that nourishes me. Feeling connected to other people fills me up in a way that has nothing to do with calories or nutrients.

Reading feeds me too. In the middle of a busy day, sitting down with a novel for even ten minutes allows me to step into another world. It quiets the noise in my head and reminds me that rest doesn't always have to be earned. Sometimes getting lost in a good story is exactly what I need.

Writing has become another source of nourishment. Putting words on a page helps me make sense of my experiences. It slows me down and allows me to listen more closely to myself. In a world that constantly encourages us to consume more, there is something deeply satisfying about creating instead.

Friendship feeds me as well. A phone call with a friend. An unexpected text message. Running into someone I haven't seen in years and wrapping each other in a two-armed hug. These moments remind me that I am part of something larger than myself. They ground me in ways no snack ever could.

I'm also learning to let simple moments nourish me. A walk through the city on a beautiful day. Sitting quietly with my morning coffee while still in my pajamas and cozy robe. The feeling of sunshine on my face. These experiences fill me up in ways that are difficult to measure but impossible to ignore.

This doesn't mean food isn't important. Food absolutely nourishes us. It provides energy, pleasure, comfort, culture, and connection. But when I find myself standing in the kitchen looking for something, I've started asking a different question:

What am I really hungry for? Sometimes the answer is food. Sometimes it's the brownie I keep in the freezer and look forward to after dinner, enjoying each bite slowly and completely.

But sometimes the answer isn't a brownie at all. Sometimes it's rest. Sometimes it's creativity. Sometimes it's connection. Sometimes it's movement, fresh air, laughter, or simply a pause in the middle of a busy day.

The more I practice listening, the more I realize that a well-fed life is about so much more than food. It's about recognizing all the different ways we can nourish ourselves and giving ourselves permission to receive that nourishment when we need it.

And maybe that's the real work, not just learning to trust our hunger, but learning to trust what it's trying to tell us.

NY Knicks

Last week, I wrote about the things that feed me that aren't food. The friendships. The creativity. The movement. The quiet moments with a book. The conversations that make me feel seen. The simple experiences that leave me feeling nourished long after the moment has passed.

And then this week, the New York Knicks won.

What struck me wasn't just the game itself. It was the city.

The energy.

The way people came together.

Everywhere I looked, there were people talking about the Knicks. Wearing Knicks hats, tshirts and even standing in long lines to get team swag. Friends gathering around televisions. Text messages flying back and forth. Social media feeds filled with excitement and celebration. For a few hours, people from completely different backgrounds were united by a shared experience.And, in a world that often feels divided, that kind of collective joy feels rare. And nourishing.

As someone who spends a lot of time thinking and writing about intuitive eating, wellness, and what truly feeds us, I couldn't help but notice how much this moment reflected the very things I've been writing about lately.

We often think nourishment comes only from what is on our plates. We focus on protein, vegetables, hydration, and all the things that support our physical health. Those things matter. But humans need more than nutrients.

We need connection. We need belonging. We need experiences that remind us we are part of something bigger than ourselves.

Watching the city celebrate reminded me that community is one of the most powerful forms of nourishment available to us.

You can feel it at the gym when familiar faces greet you. You can feel it around a family dinner table. You can feel it when a friend calls just to check in. And apparently, you can feel it when thousands of New Yorkers rally around a basketball team.

This week, the Knicks gave New York a reason to gather, celebrate, and believe together. Whether you're a lifelong fan or someone who only noticed because everyone else was talking about it, there was something beautiful about witnessing that collective joy and energy.

Sometimes what feeds us most has nothing to do with food at all.

Community

"You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with." — Jim Rohn

The older I get, the more I believe this to be true. Not because we all start dressing alike or ordering the same thing for lunch, but because community has a way of shaping how we care for ourselves.

When people ask what has helped me most on my intuitive eating journey, they expect me to talk about books, courses, or nutrition information. And while those things have played a role, the biggest influence has been the people around me.

This morning, on my way to the gym, I bumped into one of my gym friends as she was dropping her son off at school. As we walked in together, I turned to her and said, "Thank you for starting my morning off right." And I meant it. Over the years, the gym has become so much more than a place to exercise. It has become a community. There are familiar faces who greet me at the door. People who notice when I've been away. And the funny thing is, very few of our conversations are actually about working out. We talk about social media, restaurants, vacations, books we're reading, the everyday messiness of life and everything in between. Yet somehow, those small connections make it so much easier to show up for myself. I love my workouts, but they pale next to the sense of belonging.

I've found the same to be true with family and friends. Wellness is so often portrayed as a solo pursuit, a matter of discipline, willpower, and self-control. But my experience has been different. Wellness grows best in community.

When I'm surrounded by people who value balance, joy, and self-care, those values naturally become part of my life too. When I share meals with friends who eat without guilt and celebrate food instead of fearing it, I'm reminded of what intuitive eating is really about. It's not about perfection. It's about connection to our bodies, to our hunger and fullness cues, and to the people sitting across the table from us.

My favorite memories almost always involve food, but they're never really about the food. Holiday meals are about storytelling and tradition. Dinner with friends becomes the backdrop for something much bigger than the meal itself.

That, I think, is one of the reasons diet culture can feel so isolating. It turns our attention inward with criticism and judgment. Community turns it outward with curiosity and compassion.

These days, I feel a growing gratitude for the people who fill my life. The gym friends who show up alongside me. The family and friends who gather around the table. The people who listen, support, and remind me I'm not navigating this alone.

Intuitive eating has taught me to trust my body. Community has taught me I don't have to do it by myself. And perhaps that is one of the healthiest lessons of all. If you're somewhere on this journey and could use some support, I'm here. Feel free to reach out,  I'd love to be part of your community.

Cravings

Today was one of those perfectly beautiful days in NYC. The sun was shining, the temperature was just right for a light jacket, and the humidity had finally backed off. I had just finished lunch at home and instinctively thought about making a coffee or having something sweet. I usually like a little “something” to end a meal. Like punctuation at the end of a sentence. A period. An exclamation mark. Meals feel complete that way sometimes.

But today felt different.

More than dessert or coffee, I wanted fresh air. I wanted to leave my apartment and walk. Yet even as I put on my sneakers, I noticed I was still craving something. It caught my attention because physically, I knew I had eaten enough. My body wasn’t hungry.

So I started thinking about cravings in a broader way. Not the kind that sends you searching the pantry for chocolate or pretzels, but the quieter cravings. The ones that have nothing to do with food at all.

As I walked, I realized how often we assume every longing needs to be fed with something edible. We are taught to “treat ourselves” with dessert, cocktails, or snacks after a hard day. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying food. Through the lens of intuitive eating, I truly believe all foods are morally neutral. But lately I’ve started realizing that some cravings are asking for something deeper. So I asked myself, “What do I really need right now?”

The answer surprised me.

It wasn’t food. It was air. Space. Quiet.

I wanted to walk without rushing. I wanted to feel the sun on my face without looking at my phone every few minutes. No multitasking. No productivity. Just me moving slowly through the world. And honestly, that realization felt important.

There are days when what I’m truly craving is connection. Not another snack while scrolling mindlessly, but coffee with a girlfriend. Sometimes I crave laughter. Sometimes I crave not being productive at all. Sometimes I crave wandering through a bookstore, walking around a garden center, or sitting on a bench in the city watching people pass by.

Diet culture teaches us to mistrust cravings, almost like wanting something is dangerous. Like we shouldn’t dare try the trendy little “dot cake” everyone talks about because what if we enjoy it too much? But intuitive eating has taught me that cravings are information. Little whispers from the body and soul saying, “Pay attention. Something matters here.”

So now when I feel that restless “something,” I try to pause and ask myself, “What am I really craving?” Sometimes the answer is a sandwich. Sometimes it’s a brownie or a really good coffee. But sometimes what I’m truly hungry for is time. A quiet walk. Reading a book. A meaningful conversation. A moment to breathe.

And maybe that’s the invitation for all of us. Before automatically reaching for food, maybe we can gently ask ourselves what we really need. Maybe the craving is for nourishment. But maybe it’s also for rest, connection, creativity, or peace.

This week, I invite you to notice your cravings with curiosity instead of criticism. Take a walk. Call a friend. Sit in the sunshine. Buy the cake if you want the cake. But also allow yourself to crave a life that feels calm, nourishing, and fully your own.

And if you’re struggling to untangle emotional hunger from physical hunger, or simply looking for a gentler way to care for yourself and your body, I’m here to help. You don’t have to figure it all out alone.

Memorial Day 2026

This morning I woke up and realized it was Memorial Day weekend. Somehow it completely snuck up on me this year. I don’t know why I always imagine I will feel more prepared for summer than I actually do. The funny thing is, even the weather seemed confused. Lots of cold rain and heavy sweatshirts. On the east coast where we live, it felt more like fall/winter rather than the unofficial start of summer.

Still, there is always a certain feeling that arrives with Memorial Day, no matter what the temperature says. It carries two completely different energies for me.

One part feels joyful with the opening of the pool, the smell of food on the grill, and my white jeans making their yearly appearance again. Summer always feels like fun in a bottle with longer days and warm nights as I take my evening walks.

But then there is the other side of it.

The side where social media suddenly becomes flooded with “summer body” messaging. Where cleanses, detoxes, shrinking ourselves, and getting “back on track” are the messages I am inundated with. The noise becomes deafening this time of year.

And if I am being honest with myself, sometimes I still get pulled into it too.

Just the other day I stood in front of my mirror trying on summer clothes from last year. Immediately my mind started narrating all the ways my body looked different. I didn’t love the way my shorts looked and my bathing suit fit differently. My first instinct was criticism. But then I caught myself. Intuitive eating has slowly changed something inside me. It has taught me to pause before spiraling into shame. It has taught me that my body is not a project that constantly needs fixing. And maybe most importantly, it has taught me that a summer body is simply a body.That’s all it has to be. Just my body living my life.

I realized I do not want to spend another summer obsessing over shrinking myself. I want to be present for it instead. I want shrimp tacos with extra fixings, watermelon and fresh summer corn on the cob. I do not want to be mentally calculating every bite I take.

Life moves quickly. Seasons change. Bodies change. We change too.

And maybe this year, instead of preparing our bodies for summer, maybe we practice speaking to ourselves more gently. Maybe we stop assigning morality to food. Because at the end of the day, no one remembers the size of your shorts at the picnic. They remember your laughter. Your warmth. Your presence.

And if this feels difficult sometimes, you are not alone. So many of us are still trying to untangle years of shame and pressure around food and our bodies. But there is another way a kinder way. And if you are trying to find it, I am here to help.

The Mirror, The Bloat and the Noise

The Mirror, the Bloat, and the Noise

This morning I stood in front of the mirror a little longer than usual. Not to admire, but to figure out what felt so off. My rings are harder to get on. My jeans fit differently than they did a month ago. My face looks tired no matter how much concealer I reach for.

And then I thought: when did I start feeling like my body was a problem to solve?

Everywhere I turn right now, women are talking about inflammation. It has become the wellness word of the moment. And the internet, of course, has no shortage of solutions , eliminate gluten, ditch dairy, fear seed oils, survive on bone broth. Every scroll leads to another ingredient I'm apparently supposed to cut, another food quietly reclassified as poison.

It reminded me of every trend we've chased before. The cabbage soup diet. Celery juice. The three-day cleanse that promised to debloat us by Thursday. I've been here before, and I know how it ends.

So I started asking a more honest question: what does inflammation actually mean?

From a traditional medical standpoint, inflammation isn't inherently bad. It's part of how the body heals. The concern is chronic inflammation, the low-grade, persistent kind, which can contribute to larger health issues over time. Good doctors look at the full picture: sleep, stress, hormones, movement, and bloodwork together, not in isolation.

Functional medicine asks a different question: not just what is happening, but why. It looks at gut health, cortisol, blood sugar, and food sensitivities as part of one connected system. The body, in this view, is always communicating. Inflammation might just be one of its messages.

Honestly, I think there's wisdom in both.

But somewhere along the way, the inflammation conversation became another invitation for women to fear food. Every meal turned into something to analyze. Every ingredient, something to distrust. And for someone who has worked hard to make peace with eating, that spiral is exhausting to watch creeping back in.

Because here's what I've slowly learned through intuitive eating: listening to your body is not the same as punishing it. Some foods leave me feeling energized. Others leave me sluggish. That's information, not morality. But there is a real difference between paying attention and obsessing, between curiosity and restriction.

Maybe what my body is asking for isn't another elimination protocol. Maybe it's more sleep. Gentler movement. Less rushing. More actual nourishment, physical and emotional.

Wellness was never supposed to mean shrinking back into a younger version of myself. It's supposed to mean feeling at home here, in this body, in this season of life. Puffy days included.

You don't have to navigate this perfectly. You don't have to fear every food or fix every symptom to deserve peace with your body. Sometimes the most radical thing we can do is simply stop fighting and start listening.

I'm still learning that too.

Listening More Closely

This past week I started wearing a glucose monitor. At my last physical, my doctor noticed my bloodwork had shifted slightly, nothing alarming, no talk of diabetes, but enough that we agreed it might be worth understanding how my body works before something becomes a problem.

I've spent years believing I ate well. Salads, protein, water, movement. And I still think I do. But this little device stuck to the back of my arm has quietly revealed that eating well and understanding how your body actually responds are not always the same thing.

At first, I became almost obsessive. I gave up the honey in my tea, cut back on sushi rice, swapped snacks, added quinoa, traded my banana for berries, ate in a certain order, moved more consistently. I checked my numbers every few hours like my blood sugar had become a mood ring.

But after the novelty wore off, what surprised me most wasn't the numbers. It was the awareness.

My overnight oats? Spike. Sushi rice? Bigger spike. Mindless handfuls of nuts while making dinner? Those added up too. And then there were meals I expected to derail me that barely registered. Bodies are funny like that. Humbling, too.

I worried for a moment that wearing a monitor might pull me back into diet-culture thinking , the old habit of labeling foods good or bad, moralizing every bite. But strangely, it's done the opposite. It hasn't made me want to restrict. It's made me curious.

Curious about balance. About how I feel after meals, not just what's on my plate. About how sleep, stress, a walk after dinner, or eating lunch too late can affect me more than an actual brownie sometimes.

Awareness without judgment. That's what this has given me.

Not every spike means danger. Not every "healthy" food works the same for every body. And not every wellness trend deserves our devotion. But there is something powerful about collecting your own data instead of blindly following rules someone else made for a body that isn't yours.

I still believe in intuitive eating, maybe more than ever. Because intuition isn't ignoring information. It's learning to listen more closely. Apparently my body has been talking all along. I just needed a little monitor to help me hear it. And maybe that’s why I wanted to share this. Because so many of us are walking around thinking we’re either “doing good” or “doing bad” when it comes to food and health, instead of simply paying attention. Our bodies are constantly giving us information, gently nudging us toward what feels balanced, energized, nourished, and sustainable. Sometimes we just need to slow down enough to notice. If you’ve ever felt confused by all the wellness noise, frustrated that what works for someone else doesn’t work for you, or curious about how to better understand your own body without falling into restriction or diet culture, I’d love to hear from you. This journey has reminded me that health is deeply personal, and there is so much power in learning your own unique blueprint with compassion instead of judgment. Feel free to reach out if this resonates with you. 

Vitamin F- the Nourishment of Friendship

Vitamin F

Every morning, my feet hit the floor and I go through the same ritual: a big glass of water, vitamins lined up on my bathroom counter, and a sense that I am, at the very least, trying. So when my doctor went through my supplement lineup at last week's annual checkup, he basically said overkill, and I laughed. He told me that all I need is a balanced diet, strength training, moderate cardio, decent sleep and a good sex life. And I said, okay, fair. But I said there is one vitamin I absolutely cannot give up. Vitamin F. He looked at me sideways for a second. And then he got it. Friends.

Before I do almost anything else in the morning, while I am having my coffee, I'm texting my girlfriends. Good morning. Thinking of you. Did you see this? It's a small thing, but it anchors me. Some days it's the first real moment of connection I have, and honestly, it sets the tone for everything that follows.

And lately I find myself thinking about this more, about friendship as its own kind of health practice. We spend so much energy talking about what we eat, what we take for supplements, how we move, how we sleep, and how we manage all these shifts that are happening inside our bodies. But what about what's happening outside of us? The people holding us up while we figure it all out?

I caught myself grinning at an Instagram reel the other day, two grey-haired women, very Thelma and Louise, absolutely cracking up over something together. This morning I walked past two women pushing walkers down the sidewalk, deep in conversation, and then a little later I saw a group of young moms at the diner, just from school drop-off, engrossed in conversation over coffee. I smiled at all of it. There is something so quietly beautiful about women doing life alongside each other at every stage.

Because that's what it really is, isn't it? Not the big planned brunches (though those are fun too), but the quieter, more sustaining version of friendship. A friend who says yes that happens in my family too and suddenly you feel fifty pounds lighter. A conversation where you don't have to explain yourself from the beginning. A walk with your friend or getting a two-line text that somehow shifts your whole afternoon.

In a way it reminds me of intuitive eating, that sometimes what we're hungry for has nothing to do with food. Sometimes it's a person. Someone who knows who you were before all this shifting began, and who isn't trying to fix anything. Someone who can laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, because sometimes that's the only sane response.

I'm also noticing that friendships change as we move through different seasons. They deepen, or they go quiet, or they ask more of us. And maybe that's actually the practice, the reaching out, the staying open, the willingness to be seen and supported even when it feels easier to just handle things alone.

I'll keep paying attention to what my body needs. That matters. But I don't want to miss this other layer of nourishment, the kind that steadies you from the outside in.

Vitamin F may not be trending on wellness TikTok yet. But I'm convinced that it's essential.

What's for Dinner?

The Dinner Question I Should Have Never Asked

I made a rookie mistake tonight. I asked my husband what he wanted for dinner.

I know. I know.

We'd had sushi delivered last night, and all I wanted was something homemade and simple. You know, a no fuss, no production type of meal. 

What I should have said was, "So, what are you making us tonight?" 

Instead, he answered like I was running a restaurant kitchen. It was sweet, honestly, for the most part he loves my cooking and he never takes my cooking for granted. But today, there was zero part of me that had the time, energy, or inspiration. No cravings, no clear idea, nothing. Just that restless, itchy feeling of wanting something without having any clue what that something actually is. (Like way back when I was in college, I could have eaten a bowl of cereal and been perfectly fine, but the “mom” in me wanted more than that for everyone else.)

So instead of going in circles, I did what a lot of us do these days: I asked ChatGPT what to make for dinner. And then I laughed out loud at myself. Here I am, someone who spends so much time helping others tune into their own instincts and here I am, outsourcing mine to an algorithm.

But honestly? It wasn't really about the food.

It was about the noise. What sounds good? What should I want? What's going to be enough?

I just didn't know.

I'm learning to let "I don't know" be a starting point instead of a problem that needs immediate solving. Because intuitive eating isn't always peaceful and clear. Sometimes it looks exactly like this: standing in your kitchen, mildly annoyed, slightly overwhelmed, with no idea what you actually want (and it’s not just about food, is it?!?).

So I paused. Closed the fridge. Stopped scrolling and searching. And I just asked myself : What would feel good enough right now?

And something shifted. Not in a dramatic way. A simple idea surfaced. Familiar. Easy. It wasn't what my husband had in mind. It definitely wasn't what ChatGPT suggested. But I think that's actually the work, not getting it exactly right, but catching the spiral before it takes over. Allowing the pause. Choosing good enough over perfect.

Tonight wasn't about being a great cook or what we were going to eat (we wouldn’t starve). It was about listening closely enough to hear myself underneath all the noise.

And what did I land on? My absolute go-to: honey mustard salmon, baked sweet potato, and salad. I could make it in my sleep 😀And the noise got quieter for me 😀

And if any part of this feels familiar, please know you’re not alone. If you need support, I’m here.

A Cookie

Last night, it was cookies.

The little Biscoff ones I’ve collected from flights, as if they were something rare or special (as if I couldn’t just buy them at the store). Still, there they were, and there I was, standing in front of the pantry, staring at them.

I wasn’t hungry. Not even a little.

I just wanted them. Or maybe more honestly, something in me wouldn’t let go of them.

There was this quiet but persistent banter in my head. Back and forth. You could have one. What’s one cookie? By the time I reached for the package, it didn’t feel like a thoughtful choice, it felt automatic.

I unwrapped the first one slowly, almost ceremonially. Then one became two, and then another. Somewhere in the middle, I realized I wasn’t really tasting them. I was chasing something I couldn’t quite name, trying to arrive at that moment where the voice in my head would finally say, okay, that’s enough.

This is what I’ve come to understand as “food noise.” It’s not just about wanting something, it’s the constant conversation, the negotiating, the mental tug-of-war that takes up so much space. And the more I sit with this, both personally and in my work, the more I see how universal it is.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how often people talk about quieting this noise. There are medications that can bring a kind of stillness. I understand the idea of relief, of peace, of not having to think so hard about food.

And still, I find myself wondering about another way.

What if the goal isn’t to silence the voice, but to change how we relate to it?

Because when I reflect on last night, the loudest part wasn’t the craving, it was the urgency. The feeling that I had to act on it, that I couldn’t just let the thought sit there.

Maybe that’s where the work lives.

Not in eliminating the thought, but in softening the reaction.

What if, instead of rushing to quiet the noise, I paused and got curious? What’s really going on right now? Was I tired? Yes. Restless? Probably. Looking for comfort? That feels true.

And what if the cookie could simply be an option, not the solution?

I don’t believe overcoming food noise is about willpower. It feels more like building a tolerance for the discomfort of wanting something and not immediately responding. Learning that the voice can be there without being in charge.

Last night didn’t feel like a success in the traditional sense. But this morning, it feels like insight. Like information. And maybe that’s where real change begins.

And if any part of this feels familiar, please know you’re not alone, and if you need support, I’m here.

The Scale

Today I found myself thinking about my body again.

I am trying to be more accepting of it. What's interesting is that this is the work I do every day. I sit with people and help them untangle their "stuff," and so often that includes their relationship with their bodies. And still, here I am…  trying hard, just like everyone else.

This morning, I took the scale out from under the sink. Even writing this makes me feel vulnerable. Honestly, getting on it is never easy for me. You would think that after all these years of working toward a healthier relationship with food and my body, it might feel more neutral. But it doesn't. It still carries something emotionally, not just physically.

And so I stepped on early, before the day really began. I have an upcoming doctor's appointment, and I wanted to get ahead of that moment, you know the anxiety that can creep in before you even realize it.

And then, a day or two later, a friend casually asked me how much I weigh. It was innocent. I know that. But I felt it in my body immediately, a tightening, a subtle shift. I could hear it in my voice when I responded. I think she noticed too. There's this assumption that if someone appears "thin," they must feel at ease in their body. That they don't struggle. But that's not always true. The question touched something deeper than I expected. 

And that’s when I started to write. Writing is soothing to me. And I keep coming back to this: why does a number still hold so much power?

I know, logically, that it shouldn't. I remind others of this all the time. But there's a difference between knowing something and fully feeling it. And sometimes, there's still a gap. There's something deeply personal about attaching a number to your body, to yourself. It's not easy to separate the two. Our relationship with our body might be one of the most layered, complicated relationships we have.

I find myself wondering if this ever fully goes away. I don't have a clear answer. But I do know I'm not alone in it. And if you're reading this and it resonates, neither are you.

So today, I tried something different. I paused. Instead of going down the familiar path of criticism, I asked myself, what's really going on right now? And more often than not, it isn't about my body at all. When I can meet myself with curiosity instead of judgment, something inside me lets go and I can breathe. It becomes less about fixing and more about understanding. Sometimes the answer is movement like a walk, or putting on some music and going to workout. Other times it's quieter: writing, breathe work, reaching out to someone I trust.

These aren't solutions, exactly. They're just ways of coming back to myself.

The scale may always carry a certain “weight" for me. But I'm beginning to trust that those moments don't define me, and they don't define my relationship with my body. And so for now, I'll keep practicing, staying present and softening where I can. And if you’re somewhere in this too, just know that I am here.

Intuitive Eating over Detox

I can’t believe it’s April. All of a sudden I looked outside my window and I noticed that the trees are beginning to bud, the flowers are stretched open, and wow, my allergies are beginning to wreak havoc as I smell all this beauty! And with this season, I am starting to feel a reset. For me, there’s a natural pull this time of year to “start fresh,” to shed the heaviness of winter (inlcuding my bulky sweaters and coats)  and step into something lighter (no more boots and scarves but maybe jeans and tshirts and a light blazer). 

But, somewhere along the way, I feel that the instinct for renewal got tangled up with the idea of a “detox.” And if I’m being honest, the word detox does not sit quite right with me. To me, it implies that our bodies need “fixing”, that we’ve somehow done something wrong and now need to restrict, cleanse, or strip things away to become “lighter”, “better.” It encourages rules, rigidity, and often, deprivation. And in today’s world, where weight loss drugs are becoming increasingly common and normalized, we are subtly being taught that smaller, less, and more controlled is always the goal.

To me, this is the part that feels concerning.

Because underneath it all, it reinforces a message: don’t trust your body.

And so I have been thinking, what if this season isn’t about restriction at all? What if spring is actually an opportunity to reconnect?

Instead of a detox, how about we look at this time as a soft awareness of what your body might be asking for after the slower, heavier months of winter. Maybe you notice a craving for fresher foods. I know I crave more crisp vegetables, juicy fruits, and sometimes lighter meals that feel energizing rather than heavy. It’s intersting to me how I find my body leaning in this direction. I notice a  shift, a response to the spring season.

And just as food begins to change, so do our habits.

Longer days allow for more active movement, not forced exercise, but organic activity. I love my walks after dinner and my time outside. This is what I would call a true “reset.” Not something imposed, but something that unfolds.

In truth, our body already knows how to “detox”.  Your liver, your kidneys, your entire system is constantly working to keep you balanced. You don’t need to punish your body into health. You don’t need to eliminate entire food groups or follow rigid timelines to feel better.

I hope this doesn’t sound too harsh, but I feel that what might be needed is to listen. To notice hunger and fullness. To eat in a way that feels satisfying. To allow all foods without labeling them as “good” or “bad.” To move, rest, and nourish yourself in ways are not extreme but rather are supportive.

Spring doesn’t ask us to shrink. It asks us to bloom. So rather than chasing a cleanse, consider what it would feel like to come back into alignment with yourself. To trust your body again. To let your habits evolve naturally with the season instead of forcing change. There is nothing to “fix.” Only an opportunity to reconnect, renew, and move forward with a little more ease.

If this resonates with you, and you find yourself wanting to step away from the noise of “detoxes” and rigid rules but aren’t quite sure how to begin, you don’t have to navigate that shift alone. Learning to trust your body again, to listen instead of control, can feel unfamiliar at first. I believe that it is possible, and it can feel freeing.

If you’re looking for support, guidance, or simply a space to explore what a more intuitive, grounded way of living and eating might look like for you, I’m here. Reach out whenever you’re ready.

The Quiet Choice

I couldn’t sleep this morning. I was tossing and turning, watching each hour pass for no particular reason. Eventually, I got out of bed. Even the birds were still quiet, as if the world hadn’t quite woken up yet. I sat in my living room, there was a peace I felt as I waited for the sun to rise.

It struck me how many choices we make every single day. Hundreds of them. Most pass unnoticed  into our routines that we rarely pause to acknowledge them.

It starts early, deciding when to get out of bed, whether to linger or begin. And then the rhythm builds: emptying the dishwasher, folding laundry, answering emails, deciding what to wear. These small, seemingly mundane decisions shape our lives more than we realize.

And then come the louder choices. What will I eat today? What sounds good? What feels nourishing? And often, what should I eat?

That word “should” has a way of slipping in, especially around food. Diet culture has taught us that every bite must be justified or earned. We negotiate with our hunger. Maybe I shouldn’t have pasta. Maybe I’ll just have the salad. Maybe I’ll be “good” today so I can “indulge” tomorrow. But what if the choice isn’t about being good or bad? What if it’s about being honest?

There is a quiet shift that happens when we begin choosing based on what we actually want and need, rather than what we think we should do. It means tuning in instead of outsourcing our decisions to rules. Sometimes that looks like a lighter meal because it truly feels better. Other times, it’s something richer, chosen with ease and without guilt. Balance isn’t found in restriction, it’s found in presence.

The same applies to what we wear. How often do we stand in front of a full closet and feel like we have nothing to put on? Not because there’s nothing there, but because we’re dressing for who we think we should be. Choosing what to wear can become intuitive too. What feels like me today?

And then there are the choices we often overlook, I call these the “quiet” ones. The choice to sit in stillness for a few moments. The choice to step outside for fresh air. The choice to say no, even when yes feels easier. The choice to take time for ourselves without explanation.

These choices are often the most meaningful. They are where trust begins to build. Because at its core, choice is about connection to ourselves. You don’t have to overhaul your life to live more intuitively. It begins with the next choice in front of you. A small pause. A moment of checking in.

And if you find that tuning into yourself feels unfamiliar or even difficult, you don’t have to navigate it alone. This is the work I do, and I’m here to support you. Reach out whenever you’re ready.

The Art of Saying NO

I’ve been told that I tend to lead with “no”… and then, eventually, arrive at “yes.” For a long time, I wondered what that meant about me. But over time, I’ve come to see that there’s a quiet power in the word “no.” Not the sharp, reactive kind that builds walls, but the grounded, intentional kind that comes from knowing yourself well enough to honor what feels right.

For much of my life, “no” didn’t feel like an option. With friends, it looked like saying yes to plans when I was already stretched thin. With work, it meant agreeing to timelines or expectations that didn’t quite fit. And with food, it showed up as overriding my own signals like eating when I wasn’t hungry or ignoring cravings because they didn’t align with what I thought I “should” do.

What I’ve come to understand is that the art of saying no is deeply connected to intuitive living, especially intuitive eating.

At its core, intuitive eating is about trust. To notice hunger, fullness, satisfaction, and desire and to respond kindly to ourselves. But that kind of listening doesn’t just apply to food. It’s shaped by how we move through every part of our lives.

If it’s hard to say no to others, it’s often just as hard to say no to the external noise around food.

Think about the subtle ways we override ourselves. You’re full, but you keep eating because everyone else is. You’re craving something warm and comforting, but you choose the salad because it feels like the “better” option. You’re not hungry yet, but you eat because it’s “time.”

Each of these moments is an opportunity to say no. No, I don’t need more right now. No, that’s not what I’m craving. No, I’m going to trust my body instead.

Saying no in relationships works the same way. It’s not about rejection, it’s about alignment. When you decline a plan because you need rest, or set a boundary that honors your capacity, you’re practicing the same internal listening that intuitive eating requires.

And here’s the shift: every time you say a true no, you make space for a more honest yes. Yes to meals that actually satisfy you. Yes to work that feels aligned. Yes to relationships that don’t leave you depleted.

Of course, this can feel uncomfortable. Saying no may bring up guilt, fear of disappointing others, or the belief that your needs should come last. But those feelings aren’t signs you’re doing something wrong, they’re often signs you’re doing something new.

A helpful place to start is with a pause. Before responding to an invitation, a request, or even the question of what to eat, take a breath and check in. What does your body say? What feels like enough? What feels like too much?

You don’t need to justify your no with a long explanation. A simple, kind, and clear response is enough. The same goes for food, you don’t need to explain your choices to anyone, not even yourself.

The art of saying no isn’t about restriction. It’s about respect, respect for your time, your energy, and your body.

And when you begin to live from that place, something shifts. Decisions feel less like battles and more like conversations. Food becomes less about rules and more about relationships. And your yes, when it comes, feels grounded, honest, and truly yours.

If this is something you’re working on, you’re not alone. Learning to trust your no is a process and one I support my clients through every day. Reach out if you want guidance in reconnecting with your body and building a more intuitive, aligned way of living.