I don’t diet. I don’t buy into marketed diets. Oh, I have. I just don’t anymore. If they work for you, have at it. But if my mindset about the word “diet” and its forms helps someone, great.

I don’t like to discuss dieting, the verb form. It pushes too many emotional buttons for me. I prefer to think of the noun: “food or drink regularly provided or consumed” or “habitual nourishment” (per Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary.) The rest of the noun’s definition tips into the world of dieting, but I strive to put those thoughts out of my mind despite a very visible, money-fueled diet industry. I don’t always succeed.

“Lose twenty pounds in four weeks!”

“I lost fifty pounds on XYZ Diet and wasn’t hungry at all!”

I make the effort because “to diet” implies the action could end when some goal is reached. For me, with an eating disorder turned addiction, my regimen never should cease. To me, the verb also connotes severity and restriction based on years of yo-yo dieting from my youth onward, not to mention that dessert equaled a reward for good behavior, the lack of dessert a punishment. Ultimately, dieting is just too depressing to think of as my constant state for the rest of my life.

So, instead, I have a diet. I have rules. I follow that regimen because it is my habitual nourishment. The nourishment I need to be healthier, physically mobile, and what I call “sober” or “on the wagon.”

I’m sure to some, the differences in meaning here are miniscule. I’m not delusional about how close my mindset and practices are to actual “dieting.” But because of all the baggage I have about being forcibly made “to diet,” the subtle shift in thinking helps me leave behind negative thoughts about what I need to do (what I need to eat) for the rest of my life.