I grew up in the late 1990’s/early 2000’s, when “fat-free” was considered healthy and magazines promised you could “burn off last night’s dessert.” I had my insecurities (I remember being eight or nine years old the first time I thought I was “fat”),  and I dabbled in diets (anyone remember the Special K diet?), but they were an afterthought in my everyday life. 

That all changed when I started college and unintentionally lost the “freshman 15.” Other people noticed the weight loss before I did, and the compliments quickly started rolling in. Every “You look amazing, how did you do it?” and “You lost weight, you must be so happy!” became proof that my worth was tied to my body being smaller.

I was scared to lose the acceptance and validation that accompanied my weight loss, so I doubled down on “healthy” behaviors, which quickly turned into an obsession with control (aka, an eating disorder). I meticulously counted calories, restricted carbs and fats, woke up at 5:30 a.m. to work out (regardless of whether I was sick, injured, or exhausted), and felt proud when I ate less than 1,000 calories a day. 

Eventually, my body rebelled. I lost my period and was exhausted, anxious, and freezing all the time. I began binge eating at night — half a jar of peanut butter with handfuls of M&M’s, a family-size bag of pretzels with a tub of hummus, leftover takeout food, or anything else I could get my hands on. The binge eating only fed the restriction and overeating. This became a vicious cycle that I believed was all because of my lack of willpower.

My junior year of college, I discovered the concept of intuitive eating in a nutrition class, and I was immediately intrigued. I immersed myself in podcasts and books that talked about it, which is where I learned more about how problematic and unhealthy my eating and exercise behaviors had become; this encouraged me to seek professional help. After a few tries, I found an amazing therapist who helped me untangle all of the feelings, thought patterns, and trauma that contributed to my eating disorder.

It wasn’t quick or linear — recovery rarely is — but I gradually found peace with food again and rebuilt trust with my body.  

Today, that’s what I help my clients find — peace. As a registered dietitian, I take a compassionate, science-based, all-foods-fit approach that helps people feel more in control around food without relying on restriction or guilt. My goal is to help my clients reconnect with their bodies and enjoy eating again.

These days, you’ll find me walking my dog Pistachio through Philly, baking, watching baseball, dancing, reading, or helping clients untangle years of diet rules so they can finally exhale. Because you deserve to eat food you love — and feel good doing it.