What my teenager taught me about listening to my body
"That's cap, Mom."
What? I had no idea what that meant, so I tried to interpret it based on what was going on.
Later, I said, "That's cap, Pat," thinking I had nailed it, only for him to roll his eyes. "No, Mom, it's not."
I shrugged and laughed.
That interaction is a lot like learning to listen and respond to your body’s needs.
Diet and wellness culture have spent decades teaching us to mistrust our bodies. If you live in a larger body, those messages are amplified. They tell you—directly or indirectly—that you don’t know what’s best for you.
So when you begin to explore intuitive eating, it’s like trying to decode a language you’re supposed to know but don’t. It’s frustrating, disorienting, and sometimes, it’s hilarious—if you let it be.
There are two ways to approach this miscommunication: curiosity or judgment.
Curiosity leaves room for humour. It’s lighthearted and creates space for the relationship with your body to grow. Judgment, on the other hand, shuts everything down. Anger, frustration, and blame take over, creating an environment where no real communication—or healing—can happen.
When I repeated, "That's cap," to Pat, he shook his head with a cheeky grin. I didn’t get offended. Instead, I treated it as a game. Sometimes I get it right, sometimes I don’t, but we’ve built some hilarious inside jokes in the process. Now, when he tells his friends about my attempts, it’s not with an eye-roll of embarrassment but with endearment.
Your body can’t speak in words, but it does communicate with feelings and sensations. Decoding these signals can be frustrating—especially if you're new to listening. The next time you’re stuck in a moment of frustration, try saying to yourself:
"I’m trying to understand what’s going on, but I’m just not getting it. Let’s be patient with each other while we sort this out."
Feel the difference between that and the judgmental "Why can’t you just cooperate?" approach.
I’ll admit, I don’t always get it right. I sometimes let my frustration boil over, snapping at my son or myself in ways I later regret. But I always circle back. I apologize, own my part in the miscommunication, and remind him—and myself—that our relationship matters.
Patience and compassion are key in any relationship, including the one you have with your body. It’s not always easy. There’s discomfort, missed signals, and sometimes a big mess to clean up.
Here’s a simple strategy many of my patients and clients find helpful during these moments:
I’m sorry… I’m learning… Thank you for…
If you eat past fullness:
"I’m sorry for eating beyond your capacity. I’m learning to slow down and notice that last-bite threshold. Thank you for digesting my food and extracting all the nutrients I need. I appreciate your hard work."
If you criticize your body:
"I’m sorry, that wasn’t very nice. I’m learning to accept you as you are. Thank you for keeping me alive and functioning through it all."
This kind of compassionate self-talk can be especially powerful during the holidays when the pressure to “fix” your body peaks. Take a breath. Listen. Practice patience.
And if this resonates with you, know that this process takes time—and it’s okay to need support along the way. The relationship with your body is one worth nurturing, and I’m here if you ever want to talk about what that could look like for you.
