EMOTIONAL EATING

How to fight food cravings

IADMIT it. I’m not safe in the house with an open packet of biscuits. It doesn’t take much – a rubbish day, a row with the husband, a snub from a friend, or just simply too much work to do – and they’ll start tempting me. And then: Oops! Before I know it the whole packet is gone – and a Scoobysnack-sized pile of toast has disappeared too, washed down with a generous glass of sauvignon blanc and a bag of peanuts as a chaser. And my rubbish day just got worse.

It seems I’m not alone. Psychologist Jane McCartney, a specialist in overeating, has seen scores of patients who eat obsessively and destructively, and there are millions more of us who simply overeat.

McCartney has put her experiences into a book called Stop Overeating, which aims to help us develop a healthy relationship with food and lose weight along the way.

As McCartney tells me when we meet in a bar, ‘‘Food is probably the biggest unrecognised harm causer – it’s almost become normalised to be overweight, even if it’s just a little bit overweight.’’

There is no getting away from the facts. ‘‘We are fat because we overeat,’’ she said, before adding: ‘‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not your fault.’’ McCartney, or Dr Jane as she styles herself for her television appearances on news and lifestyle programmes (the doctorate is in psychology, not medicine), should know – she’s been there.

The pretty, slim brunette in her mid-40s may not look like someone who has struggled with overeating in the past, but, she tells me, ‘‘I’ve never been hugely overweight but I’ve certainly had my moments.’’ Even recently, when her son disregarded some advice, she felt the kind of rejection that ‘‘could have me heading for the cupboard and reaching for the biscuits’’.

Happily for McCartney, she has found ways to deal with the urges, described in the book, using techniques from cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), a discipline that aims to find ways of tackling negative thoughts and actions, combined with analytical methods that explore the deeper reasons that we rush for a food fix when under stress.

The book is peppered with case studies of McCartney’s patients (names and identifiable situations changed) – both men and women.

As she points out, ‘‘Most weight loss books are aimed at women, but I see my fair share of men, too.’’

So Frank, who sits in the car gorging on junk in the supermarket car park after rowing with his girlfriend, is in just the same behavioural loop as Kate who, snubbed by a work colleague, goes out and stuffs herself with cream cake. It’s only by delving into the past –

Mini Moment:

Reward yourself:

Out of sight: If you have to buy Frank’s dysfunctional childhood, neglected by his teenage mother; Kate’s destructive relationship with her sister – that they can begin to address their issues.

I have tackled the exercises set by McCartney, which she compares to stepping down a flight of stairs, exploring the root of one’s problems by looking progressively further back. It was hard – deeply uncomfortable – dredging up memories that I’d felt were best forgotten. McCartney acknowledges the difficulty.

But all this navel-gazing also feels self-indulgent. So what if I didn’t get praise from my father? Lots of people don’t. Shouldn’t I just be able to get over it? And let’s be honest: it’s not very British to focus on oneself. McCartney laughs. ‘‘It is un-British. But it’s also vital. You’ve got to be able to work out what’s going on.’’

Next up is to address one’s feelings of self-worth, or lack of it. McCartney recommends identifying supportive, trustworthy people in your life – not always the obvious ‘‘best’’ friends who on reflection may not be as supportive as one high-calorie food like potato chips and biscuits, put it in hard-to-reach places. ‘‘It means every time you open the cupboard you’re not confronted with them, and the neurological stimulus doesn’t start.’’ Get back on the horse: If you have a lapse, restart your diet straight away. ‘‘If you put it off until tomorrow, you tend to overcompensate, eat too much, and then the next day you think, oh I’ll start next week.’’ assumes. These ‘‘advocates’’ don’t even have to be people you know, says McCartney. Whomever you choose, ask yourself how they would respond to your negative selfimage – it’s likely to lift your mood immediately.

When the eating demons really strike, McCartney’s frontline defence is the ‘‘Mini Moment’’, which may sound like a snack-size chocolate bar but in fact is a rule: take a 10-minute break before responding to the siren call of the biscuit tin.

‘‘Often 10 minutes is enough to be able to process what is going on. You can think, what is going on here? What are the familiar feelings I’m having? I might not be able to change the situation but maybe I can change my response to the situation.’’ Which could be that I don’t need to eat at all – or at least I can downgrade to carrot sticks instead of a packet of MallowPuffs.

In fact, I’d do better to keep to three meals a day. There is, says McCartney, an issue with people imagining that it’s only what they eat at meals that counts. ‘‘They completely ignore the stuff they eat between meals. They think, ‘He gave it to me, I ate it to be polite, I haven’t cooked it, that doesn’t count.’’’

Ah yes – if it’s a present, chocolate has no calories.

‘‘But,’’ continues McCartney, ‘‘secretly, deep down, you know what you have been eating and what you haven’t been eating, much the same as alcoholics or people on narcotics.’’

So food is a drug? ‘‘Yes, it can be. There’s plenty of research, most of it US-based – that people just see the goldenM[of the McDonald’s sign] and it is enough to start a neurological response in the brain that says, ‘I have to be satisfied.’ It’s like the alcoholic with the drink or the former smoker seeing the cigarette packet.’’ So why do we overeaters turn to food rather than drinking, smoking or taking hard drugs? ‘‘Because it is there. Every house has food, so it is readily available and – up to a point – socially acceptable.’’ But what about the sensual qualities of food? Let’s face it, food is lovely: it tastes lovely, it feels lovely, it’s one of the great pleasures of life. ‘‘Yes. It touches the parts neurologically – like a sugar rush, leaves you a bit

The greatest pitfalls to the dieter are simply the Saboteurs. These are the friends, relations or colleagues who, consciously or unconsciously, don’t want you to lose weight.

stimulated.’’ I get it – food does feel good, and so, I imagine, does heroin.

None the less, it seems unfair that some people just don’t seem to have a problem with overeating. McCartney agrees. ‘‘Take it or leave it – some people are Take It people, some are Leave It.’’ As a Take It person, can I ever hope to become a saintly Leave It one? ‘‘No, I’m afraid not. You can learn to manage it, that’s all. Although some Leave It people do become Take Its, when something triggers the issue.’’ McCartney has other helpful abbreviations, such as FOMO, or Fear of Missing Out (if I don’t eat it now, someone else will), and BIT, or Because It’s There (that open packet of biscuits again).

But the greatest pitfalls to the dieter are simply the Saboteurs. These are the friends, relations or colleagues who, consciously or unconsciously, don’t want you to lose weight – perhaps because it will make them look bad, or simply because you have a role as their fat friend. ‘‘People can be very manipulative and determined. I had a chap who said to his office, I’m going to lose weight, and everyone was supportive except one person, who kept bringing cakes and doughnuts in.

‘‘He would say, ‘Please don’t, or at least don’t put them anywhere near me.’ But in the end, he put the plate of doughnuts on the floor and jumped on them. Unfortunately, the person bringing them in was his boss. But they got the hint.’’ Jumping on doughnuts? That sounds even more fun than eating them. I may just try it.

by Dr Jane McCartney is available now.