We All Are Addicts for a New Fad Diet

By Sonakshi · @sonakshiwellness

Why are some people at peace with food and some of us have been at war with it since we were five years old?

The F Word

I was always told I was chubby. Or — let me use the actual word — fat. A six-year-old kid who already knew she had a tummy.

I have a story. I was around five years old, and I came running to my mom having just made a new friend. I was so excited. And the first thing I said was — and I can't make this up — 'She is fat like me. Wo meri tarah moti hai.'

Of course I don't remember this. My mom told me. And everyone found it funny. But I have thought about it so many times since.

Why was a five-year-old already thinking about weight? Where did she learn that? Who taught her to notice it — in herself and in others?

Where did we go wrong?

When I look at my childhood photos now, I don't see a fat kid. I see a child. But my brother had always been skinny — he never gained weight easily — and it was effortless for people to draw comparisons. To point out the difference. To make sure I knew.

And here is something nobody talks about enough: a boy with weight issues will not be judged the way a girl is. We are not supposed to gain weight. As if there is nothing more important for us than the number on the scale.

— — —

The Beginning of the War

That was the beginning of my body image issues. Every time someone commented on my weight, I would punish myself — either by not eating at all, or by doing the opposite and eating everything in reach as a kind of rebellion. Food became a weapon I used against myself.

If I had a fight with my mum. If I argued with anyone. My eating changed.

By fifteen I was dieting. By seventeen I had lost twenty kilograms. People were happy. I was getting compliments. I loved going out. My life felt like a dream. My parents were proud.

But something had shifted with food. I was eating less and less. And even when I did eat, there was guilt. I would not look in the mirror after a bigger meal. I hid my stomach behind a pillow when I sat down — as if all eyes were on me, always.

Here is the thing that confused me for years: this didn't happen when I was overweight. It happened after I lost the weight. Why?

And then I went into modelling — where the judgment became relentless. I was weighing fifty-seven kilograms and checking the scale twice a day. My goal was to eat as little as possible so that tomorrow's number would be smaller. That was the whole plan. That was my life.

— — —

Rishikesh Changed Everything

As I was planning to enroll in my first pageant, something made me sign up instead for a two-hundred-hour yoga teacher training in Rishikesh. I don't know exactly what pulled me there. But I went.

And something happened that I didn't expect.

I went back to our roots. I was eating properly — real food, cooked with care — for the first time in months. And I felt happy. Not the happiness that comes from the scale going down. Just happy. Present. Fed.

I was moving my body every single day, but it didn't feel like a workout. It felt like a gratitude prayer. Like my body and I had quietly called a truce.

As we went deeper into yoga philosophy and Ayurveda, something clicked. Food was never supposed to be the enemy. It was never supposed to be a reward or a punishment. It was nourishment. And I had spent years treating it like a weapon.

Within four weeks I made a decision. I said goodbye to modelling and pageants. I stayed one more month in Rishikesh just to read, to eat, to understand. That was the beginning of wanting to fix my relationship with food — not just for myself, but eventually for every woman who had learned to fight her own body the way I had.

— — —

So How Did I Become a Holistic Health Coach?

I did my diploma in nutrition and dietetics. It opened up the world of biochemistry, food science, and the relationship between what we eat and how we feel. I started seeing food as fuel. As nutrients. Not as a form of punishment or a treat to be earned.

But it didn't feel like enough. Something was still missing.

And then I found the Institute of Integrative Nutrition. The first thing I Googled was: what does integrative even mean? As I read, everything resonated. It was not just about food. It was not as simple as calories in and calories out. It was about the whole person — the mind, the environment, the emotions, the history.

Food is so much more than fuel. And our relationship with it is so much more than a diet plan.

— — —

Why We Are All Different — and Why That Matters

Let me start with something called bio-individuality. We all know we are different from each other. So why have we — especially women — spent decades idealising the same body? Going on Pinterest, finding the most aesthetic physique, and making it our goal. I did this for years. Most of us have.

But here is what I have learned: our immune systems, our gut microbiomes, the way we respond to stress — these are shaped before we are even born. By our mothers' health during pregnancy. By the way we came into the world. A baby born via C-section and a baby born vaginally have different gut microbes from their very first breath.

Let me give you a practical example. My brother and I grew up in the same house, with the same parents, the same school, the same tutors. But the way he responds to stress is completely different from mine. He doesn't stop eating when we argue. He doesn't stuff his face with food when something goes wrong. He eats when he is hungry — that's it.

For years, food was a reward and a punishment for me. For him, it was just food.

You cannot control certain things about your body. And that is not a failure. That is biology.

— — —

The Eating Disorder I Didn't Know I Had

When I first discovered intuitive eating, I genuinely thought: this doesn't apply to me. I never had bulimia. I never had anorexia nervosa. I didn't have an eating disorder.

And then I read further.

An eating disorder can also look like not eating anything today because you ate too much yesterday. It can look like finishing an entire bar of chocolate because you promised yourself you wouldn't eat one for three months. It can look like the sugar detox you signed up for — but first, let me eat everything that has sugar in it.

Just imagine an alcoholic saying: I will quit from tomorrow. Let me just get blackout drunk tonight. That's your friend. What would you tell them?

You would say — hey, you don't have to go cold turkey from tomorrow. Just have one drink. Take it slow.

Most of us, including me, have been addicted to diets. The restriction. The all-or-nothing thinking. The belief that the next plan will be the one that finally works.

— — —

What Happened When I Gave a Client Permission to Eat Chocolate Every Day

I had a client — let's call her Aish. She called me one afternoon and said: I ate a whole chocolate bar today. She said it the way you confess something shameful. She was expecting me to be disappointed.

Instead, I gave her permission to eat chocolate every day.

She thought I was joking. I told her clearly — no dark chocolate, no alternatives, no portion control. Go to the shop. Buy normal sugary chocolates. Keep them. Eat them whenever you want. You have full permission.

A week later she called me back.

She had barely touched them. Maybe once. In a small amount. Because the moment she knew she could have it anytime, the urgency disappeared. The guilt disappeared. She was able to actually tune into her real cravings — and most of the time, chocolate wasn't even what she wanted.

The restriction is what made her think about it constantly. The moment she was allowed to have it — she stopped needing it.

This is exactly how we function. Tell a child they cannot open one specific gift — with a hundred others in the room — and that is the only one they will think about. The forbidden thing is always the most tempting. Not because we are weak. Because we are human.

— — —

More Than a Diet, We Need to Unlearn

We do not need another meal plan. We do not need a new fad diet or a thirty-day detox or a drug that switches off our hunger.

What most of us need is someone to help us unlearn. To sit with us and say: failing a diet does not mean you lack self-control. It means you were never meant to be controlled in the first place.

If you want to start somewhere — not a plan, not a protocol, just a start — try a food journal. Not to track calories. Not to count anything. Just to notice.

The next time you are upset and you reach for something sweet, pause. Take one breath. And ask yourself honestly:

Do I want sugar right now? Or do I just need someone to talk to?

You would be surprised how often it is the second one.

And how much changes when you finally know the difference.

About Sonakshi

Sonakshi is a certified holistic nutritionist, registered yoga teacher, and women's health coach based in Faridabad, India. She works with women dealing with PCOS, hormonal imbalances, gut health, and disordered relationships with food — helping them build a life that feels good to live in, not just look at. Find her at @sonakshiwellness on Instagram.