Growing up in my house, we ate wholesome, balanced meals. We never talked calories or nutrition, but we ate pretty healthily for the most part.
My mom wasn’t one of those moms who wouldn’t allow cookies in the house; a cookie was a treat, not something we had every day or abused. So if we had a cookie or two for dessert, it was a special night.
She never told me I couldn’t have one. But if I reached for a third or fourth cookie, she’d usually ask me gently, “Lissa, do you need that cookie?”
Nine times out of ten, I didn’t. I’d sometimes feel a little bit of shame, but only because I knew deep down she was right.