34. She's Off the Coconut Oil: When You Eat, Honor What Your Body Tells You
Okay, this will be a tough one for me (more on that anon). But since this series is about my dogs, let’s start with the canine appetites. To wit, Chaser’s.
Unlike humans, dogs will never eat “emotionally.” You won’t see a dog eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s because the flirty Rottweiler didn’t show up at daycare. (“But he played with me all day last week! And we wrestled with our muzzles practically attached to each other for an hour! He said he couldn’t wait to see me again!”
They won’t indulge in extra servings of marble cheddar when they get home because they didn’t catch enough balls at the park today.
And they won’t scarf down the entire birthday cake in one sitting because Mum patted Chaser for ten minutes and barely even looked at me once! (That’s not to say they won’t gorge on the ice cream, gobble the cheese or scarf the entire cake. They just won’t do it because they feel bad about themselves).
In other words, in general, dogs eat to live, not live to eat. Which means that to a dog, food is food. If it’s nourishing and it fills the belly, it’s acceptable to eat.
Once they’re past the “I’ll-eat-anything-including-light-bulbs-tin-foil-or-carpets” phase, they understand what is and is not organic matter, and they’re good to go for the most part.
When she was younger, we could feed Chaser just about anything and she’d eat it. Kibble, leftovers, Thanksgiving turkey, watermelon rinds, straight-up coconut oil–it didn’t much matter as long as it was edible and it contained either nutrients or fiber.
“It’s true, Mum—I did love me some coconut oil.”
Once she became a geriatric dog (which, according to our vet, occurred at age 13), however, she was suddenly incredibly fussy about her food.
I found it fascinating how choosy she became, but based on what worked best for her body.
Take the raw turkey and bones she had eaten since puppyhood, for example. Shortly after her 13th birthday, she went off the usual mix (turkey patties plus “dog mush,” or ground up sweet potato, cauliflower and apple with a handful of kibble to cover all nutritional bases).
What was previously a meal she attacked with gusto became a bowl of soggy flesh and kibble that she sniffed, sometimes licked tentatively, then abandoned. Laced with crushed liver treats and peanut butter, it was elevated to a meal with a 50% chance of success.
When we consulted with our holistic vet, he suggested she might be naturally consuming less since raw food isn’t easily digestible for elderly dogs. Amazing how she instinctively knew that fact! Instead, he offered, why didn’t we cook up a stew with root veggies and some ground meat, and feed her that as an alternative?
Now, I realize most sane people don’t have half a day to chop carrots, parsnip, sweet potato and turnips in order to prepare a simmering pot of boeuf non-bourguignon for their dogs. In my case, since I work at home (and basically have no other life), it seemed doable.
And–no surprise–it worked like a charm. Chaser returned to gobbling her meals. (Don’t worry, I added a ladle of the stuff to Zoey’s bowl, too, so she wouldn’t feel left out).
So, how does this relate to the humans? And, in particular, to the human composing this post?
I can’t say I’ve ever met a person who hasn’t, at some point in her or his life, eaten based on emotion. It becomes a problem, however, when the practice occurs daily (or multiple times a day), or when it surpasses emotional eating to qualify as disordered eating.
As someone who’s spent a good portion of my adulthood attempting to overcome binge eating, I can tell you that it’s not very difficult to make that last leap.
What might have begun as “eating to assuage uncomfortable emotions” can easily morph into “eating to assuage uncomfortable emotions plus eating to reward positive emotions” plus “eating simply because it tastes good” plus “eating because it’s in the house and who knows when it will next be here again?” plus “eating because it’s in my field of vision.”
Now, I don’t claim to be an expert on disordered eating or how to embrace healthier eating (and this isn’t the space for that, anyway), but after years of study (and therapy) on the subject, I’m pretty familiar with the principles of intuitive eating.
Zoey practicing intuitive eating. (“Mum, my intuition is to eat—pretty much anything.”).
You’ll learn much more in the works of Geneen Roth, but here’s the gist: eat when you’re truly hungry. Eat what your body truly craves. Eat only until you are truly satisfied.
I can hear the peanut gallery already: But if I eat what I want, I’ll eat cookies and ice cream [or pizza and chips] all day! That’s the same mistake Roth herself made, in the beginning. But eating “what your body truly craves” literally means “what is most nourishing and healthy for your body,” not “what your mind and taste buds think you want.” (Again, Roth explains this so much better than I could).
Chaser certainly had that balance figured out. Once her geriatric digestive system could no longer easily digest lumps of fat, she stopped accepting coconut oil–even though she had loved it before. Once her less-effective stomach acid had trouble with raw foods, she promptly rejected them. And so on.
So, for this week, the challenge is this: eat according to what your body wants and needs. Be aware of physical signals, and heed them.
Sounds pretty simple, right? Ah, but simplicity can be so deceptive! Especially when it feels so simple to just. . . eat.
Nonetheless, here we go!
Follow up on last week’s challenge: Learn to set boundaries.
One of my hubby’s endearing qualities is his desire to share new information or interesting factual tidbits he’s encountered. (I recall vividly, when our relationship was new, that a friend remarked how sweet it was he’d gone out of the room to grab a book so he could read a passage we’d mentioned over dinner).
Coincidentally, this selfsame trait can feel intrusive and inconsiderate when he chooses to regale me with data while I’m doing something that requires my full attention.
It’s one thing for him to recite what’s on his computer screen while I browse social media. Yes, I might be focused on a critical cooking hack to chop onions or the return of flare-legged pants (a fashion essential!, but it’s no biggie if he happens to interrupt that flow.
When I’m writing, however, it’s another story. The first hundred or so times this occurred and he stopped by the door of my office to share a paragraph of the latest financial newsletter he received, I nodded politely, made some perfunctory comment in response (“Wow, that’s quite a jump in value!” or “Wow, that does seem like a huge drop,”--etc), then turned back to my work.
But did you know that every time you interrupt your concentration, it can take up to 23 minutes for your brain to get back into the flow? Some mornings, I don’t even HAVE 23 minutes to focus on my writing!
When I finally realized it was up to me to set the boundary, I announced my intent beforehand.
“I’m going to be writing in the mornings,” I told him. “So please don’t disturb me while my door is closed.”
“Sure,” he responded. No biggie.
Can you guess what happened the next day when I actually started to write?
Nothing.
He respected the boundary–didn’t speak to me, didn’t open the door, didn’t attempt to circumvent the rule at all. It was a non-issue!
That seems too simple, doesn’t it?
In this case, of course, the “boundary” was real: a door, closed while I worked and open once I’m done. How simple is that?
Of course, setting boundaries with the hubs is likely the easiest place to start, since I feel comfortable with him and trust him to respect what I ask. But what about someone else?
It’s a daily practice. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to work on it.
***************
As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoy Be the Dog, please share it with someone else! Or support me and my writing with a paid or free subscription. I’d be eternally grateful either way.