CW for explicit examples of anti-fatness and misogyny.
A few weeks ago, the New York Times ran a piece about my work and included a photo of the snack shelf in my pantry. I knew they would take the pantry photo, because every time my work gets written about in the mainstream media, they photograph, or talk about, my snack shelf.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2227d9c4-9ae7-42d8-95f7-95c0c1969252_1365x2048.webp)
This fixation started last year, when I told The Cut that, at that particular moment, the snack shelf in my pantry contained Puff’d Cheez-Its, Extra Toasty Cheez-Its, and Goldfish, along with Girl Scout cookies and Chewy chocolate chip granola bars. Then The Times of London ran a profile with the headline “We have no food rules at home—I let my kids eat whatever they want,” which reads like a quote but is not a sentence I ever said to that reporter.
Ever since, even though I’m not a dietitian or feeding therapist, I’m now asked how I feed my kids in every interview. Every time a media outlet reports on my work, there is a flurry of Internet handwringing in comment sections and on Reddit threads about the food in my home. Fitness bros and thin dietitians scold me in their TikToks. And I receive a whole bunch of emails telling me that my groceries are child abuse.
So what’s really in my snack cabinet, right now? And do I really have “no rules” about it?