Mirror Work: I’m Actively Trying Not to be an Almond Mom

And it takes a lot of work

Mirror Work are reflections or prompts on what the mirror taught me this week — confidence, shame, surprise, or just neutrality. The mirror scares the shit out of me. So think of it as character building and seeing myself without the performance.

I refuse to be an almond mom.

But internally it will always be a fight between my brain and my body. I grew up with an almond mom (Hi mom! I know you’re reading this and we don’t have to talk about this article; I’m fine). My mom most likely doesn’t know that term, but if you’ve never heard of it, here’s the deal: it describes a parent, usually a mother, who models or promotes restrictive, weight-conscious eating habits, often in subtle or normalized ways.

A lot of Millennial women grew up with some version of an “almond mom,” shaped by the diet culture of the ’90s and early aughts. Now, between the rise of appetite suppression and a steady stream of content creators promoting calorie deficits, I can’t help but wonder what the age of GLP-1s will bring.

But I do know this: I have the ability to step outside the more toxic food and body narratives I was raised in and choose something different for my son.

That said, even as my brain insists, don’t repeat what my mom did, my body tells a different story. I feel myself tense up and I’m a little uncomfortable because I don’t want to say anything. Instead, I internalize the thoughts that immediately come up: he’s already had a cookie today. He’s had so many sweets this weekend, he really shouldn’t have another. I’d never say those things out loud or give him that “don’t take another” look, the one my mom used to give me. Her eyes planted on my hands, then subtly on the cookie, like a quiet “don’t” I was meant to understand without her saying a word. But I’m not sure that instinct ever fully goes away.

There was a period when I thought I might want to go on a GLP-1 to quiet my food noise. And as I write this, I find myself wondering if that would also quiet some of those lingering “almond mom” tendencies. If I thought about food less, would I also worry less about my son eating the “wrong” things or eating too much?

This is an ongoing thing I’m navigating, but as I said, I’m trying so hard not to become an almond mom. In an effort to break the cycle, I’ve started mapping out a few things I’m working on. And if this is something you wrestle with too, I hope they offer a little reassurance and a place to start.

1. Neutralizing food language

I’m trying to make food feel neutral, no “good,” no “bad,” no earning, no undoing.

2. Letting the moment pass

The win is simply not saying the first thing that pops into my head. Sometimes I’ll even wait and tell my husband how I felt when our son ate _____, just so I can get it out of my own head. But I’m realizing that not every thought needs a voice.

3. Expanding the focus beyond food

I want him to remember how something tasted, not whether it was too much.

4. Modeling, not controlling

I can’t control how he’ll feel about his body one day, but I can control what I model now.

5. Making room for imperfection

I’m realizing that breaking the cycle doesn’t mean having perfect thoughts; it just means choosing which ones get airtime.

Collected Distractions

A brain dump of what’s holding my attention (and worth yours).

Tub Talks: If you love wellness, exceptional body care, spa-level chit-chat, and an honest take on why the bathroom is a sacred space, you’ll love Tub Talks by my friend and Esker founder Shannon Davenport. She recently wrote a piece on how full-body washing with soap is a relatively modern habit, only becoming common about 150 years ago, and what people used instead. Fascinating.

Alexa Chung Taught Me How To Dress: This piece feels like the epitome of great Substack content. It’s a perfect blend of early-aughts print-era fashion storytelling, a genuine teaching moment, and just enough links to satisfy our collective obsession with discovery and consumption. Madeline Sensibile-Yazzetta has incredible taste, and this is my way of telling her: we need more of this!

And Repeat This Focus Tip: Change the entry point when you can’t focus. Writing? Start in the middle. Building a deck? Fix the easiest slide first. Sending a thorough email? Write the last sentence first. Starting is the hardest part.

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