You Can’t Eat “Intuitively” on an Empty Stomach
On SNAP, disordered eating, and the hunger of it all
Over the weekend, for the first time in U.S. history, millions of families didn’t receive their Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits on schedule. More than 42 million people—including 16 million children—rely on this support to buy groceries. Without it, many are left wondering how they’ll feed themselves this week. And most recently, the administration said it would make only partial payments to people on SNAP. Food assistance isn’t just “extra help”—it’s an essential lifeline. It helps families to put food on the table, seniors and people with disabilities access nourishment, and communities avoid going hungry in the gaps between paychecks.
I’ve been writing for years about how the intersection of politics, systemic inequities, and diet culture influence the way we relate to our bodies. This includes intentional weight loss, eating disorders, and negative body image. It’s funny—but not really—how much pushback I used to get for that (less so now, because I think those who wanted to leave, left—and more joined in their place).
Many people don’t want to see food as political. But food is deeply political. And if you need proof, look no further than this moment: when policy choices directly determine who gets to eat and who doesn’t.
This is intimately tied to weight stigma, by the way—where medical bias leads to which bodies receive adequate, equitable health care, and which ones don’t.
These hierarchies of worth—around bodies, health, and who “deserves” care—are the same hierarchies that inform how our food systems are designed.
You can’t eat “intuitively” if there isn’t food in the fridge.
You can’t build trust with your body if you’ve been taught it’s too expensive to care for. You can’t recover if the very conditions that fed your disordered eating are being legislated back into your life. When SNAP benefits are halted, reduced, and stigmatized, it’s not just a “policy issue.” It’s a direct assault on people’s ability to nourish themselves.
Hunger doesn’t just affect the body—it affects mental health, stress, focus, and emotional stability. And these burdens fall heaviest on people already marginalized by systemic inequities.
(Stay tuned (and make sure you’re subscribed) for an upcoming series on intuitive eating content that gives me the “ick”, because I have thoughts.)
Being able to eat in response to your body’s needs should not be a luxury, but how can anyone do that when they’re worrying about where their next meal is coming from?
Scarcity is not separate from disordered eating—it’s part of what creates it.
Did you know that living in a state of uncertainty and instability with food—even just low-grade hunger—puts a person at higher risk of developing an eating disorder?
If you’ve ever experienced a disordered relationship with food, or felt the lingering effects of dieting, you know this too.
We tend to think of scarcity only as the absence of food. But scarcity can also look like childhood experiences of restriction, limited or forbidden foods, dieting, calorie or macro counting, and the constant messaging that our worth is tied to discipline, control, or body size. These messages don’t exist in a vacuum—they’re reinforced by the economic systems that make food itself feel conditional.
When your body can’t trust that food will be there, it adapts. It fixates, micromanages, obsesses. It protects you the only way it knows how.
To hear more about the impact of mental, emotional, or physical deprivation with food, listen to this week’s episode of this pod.)
Dr. Regina Lazarovich joined me to explore the impact of scarcity and restriction—how that can lead to painful cycles of binge eating.
Recovery requires access, stability, permission, and enoughness.
Because you can’t practice “listening to your body” when the very systems built to protect you are letting you go hungry.
Food insecurity is a disordered eating issue. That means it’s also a body image issue. And, it’s a justice issue. These things are all connected. Structural barriers shape our relationship with food long before personal choices even come into play.
So I want to be very clear that a moment like this one—where food support is being cut or withheld—will have enormous ramifications, including a lasting effect on a person’s relationship to food, hunger, and their body. No one can build peace with food in a culture that keeps taking it away. Nourishment shouldn’t depend on privilege—it should be a human right.
To talk about nourishment without talking about access is to miss the point. The personal is political—it always has been.
What heals one body must include healing the systems that keep others hungry.
So let this be a reminder: individual healing and collective care aren’t separate projects. They depend on each other. If your fridge is full, let that not be a source of guilt, but of grounding. Let it move you toward compassion, advocacy, and solidarity—toward a version of “health” and “freedom with food” that includes everyone at the table.
Notes, food ideas, and thoughts:
Please give yourself permission to lean on convenience, affordable staples, and whatever keeps you fed.
Canned and frozen foods are excellent things to keep on hand. Tuna, canned corn, canned beans, frozen vegetables…all can be stretched and included with plenty of other ingredients.
Rice, beans, potatoes, and pasta can go a long way—especially when bought in bulk.
Oatmeal made with milk, peanut butter, and raisins is a great pantry-ready breakfast.
Remember that carbs keep our brain functioning, which means we’re better able to think clearly, support our communities, and…stay.
I’m putting out a community pantry outside our house and will report back on how that seems to be going.
Giving money to local food banks can often be more helpful than giving food, since they know how to stretch a dollar and feed as many folks as possible.
Feeding America has a tool to find a local food bank.
Do you have other ideas or thoughts? Share them in the comments, I’d love to hear from you.
You might also be interested in…
When I ask, ‘Are you sure you’re eating enough?’
There’s a question my clients ask me often—one that sounds simple, but never really is:
The Starvation We Choose, The Starvation We Ignore
Before I begin, I want to acknowledge the position I’m writing from. I’ve never experienced food insecurity. I’ve had access to recovery, to nourishment, to safety. I live in a body that is largely accepted by our culture. These truths shape the way I’ve come to understand hunger and healing — and I hold that awareness close as I write.
Is “Just Eat When You’re Hungry and Stop When You’re Full” Good Advice?
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard it: just eat when you’re hungry and stop when you’re full.
Binge Eating, Perfectionism, and the Myth of Willpower with Dr. Regina Lazarovich
I feel like I lost my 20s to binging and restricting. On the surface, I was shining, I was achieving everything and doing all the things. But I was suffering, I was not really living.
“You can’t build trust with your body if you’ve been taught it’s too expensive to care for.” THIS! This speaks to the struggle to view yourself as worthy of care in all ways - nourishment, medical care, rest, etc. Some of my childhood included food insecurity as well as abuse, so accepting myself as worthy has played a large part in my recovery.
“You can’t recover if the very conditions that fed your disordered eating are being legislated back into your life.” WOW! This is such a poignant and spot-on message. I wholeheartedly agree with every single thing in this piece.
My family had significant financial challenges during a good portion of my childhood and teen years, and I remember how much stress and fear every visit to the grocery store held. This undoubtedly played a role in the development of my very tenuous relationship with food. This is such a critical issue, and I’m so glad you’re speaking on it in such a thoughtful way, Abbie. Thank you!