On Listening to Cravings

I live with friends. We’re all fairly aware of our diets, and conscious about staying active.

Recently, one of us moved to another city, and a new person took his place. He’s a few years younger than us, a good lad, and absolutely loaded with snacks.

We showed him around the house and ended in the hall, our usual hangout spot. That’s also where he kept his stash.

The funny thing was, he didn’t unpack any whey protein. No protein bars. Nothing of that sort. It felt a little strange, because everyone I know talks about protein at least once a day.

Lazing around with snacks within arm’s reach, we kept munching.

It made me realize that resistance, even a healthy diet, is often just a function of access. I’ve been here before, mistaking the absence of opportunity for discipline.

T and I used to love exploring food and ordering in. Of the two of us, she picked imaginative, sometimes indulgent meals, while I was the one suggesting salad bowls. Looking back, I see my rigidity more clearly; I didn’t want to think honestly about the trade-offs, while T was more truthful with herself. She enjoyed food, and maybe life itself, in a way I rarely let myself.

There’s a version of fitness that becomes its own kind of misery. Counting, calculating, negotiating every meal. The body fat percentage you’re chasing can start to cost more than it gives back.

The alternative isn’t recklessness. Indulgence isn’t the opposite of discipline. Sometimes it’s just listening to yourself, and refusing to turn every meal into a moral test. If awareness matters, then listening to both mind and body should matter too.

Our cravings aren’t always shallow signals. If you feel like having a pastry or a dosa, that’s okay. Have some. A life built around health should still have room for pleasure.