I’ve now seen two (and two too many) videos of moms telling their kids as they weigh their ground beef and peanut butter, “I weigh my food to make sure I am eating enough.” And look, I get where this comes from—being intentional about what goes into our bodies is important. But at what point does it become too much? How many times do they really need to weigh their food to know what “enough” looks like?

And what is the message they’re giving their child?! Kids are always watching, listening, learning from everything we do. When they see their parents weighing food, it’s more than just a habit—it’s teaching them that food is something that must be controlled, measured, and calculated.

Is It Really About Eating “Enough”?

Let’s be honest, this isn’t really about making sure they’re eating enough. If they need to weigh out every ounce of peanut butter to ensure they’re hitting some target, is it really because they’re afraid they’ll under-eat? Or is it just another way to control things? There’s comfort in the numbers, right? They give this illusion of safety—like if they can just stick to these precise measurements, nothing bad will happen. But at what point does this need for precision take over?

It’s like control disguised as care. And when it comes to food, control can be a slippery slope. It starts with weighing to “be mindful,” but then it’s weighing everything, all the time. It feels safer to measure every bite, to have this rigid structure, but does it actually feel free?

Disordered Eating is Sneaky

Disordered eating has this way of creeping in, making itself feel like it belongs. It whispers things like “you’re just being healthy” or “you’re just being disciplined.” And suddenly, these excuses become the justification for the behaviors. They create a bubble of safety around the act of weighing, like it’s this anchor that keeps everything in check. But really, it’s just another way of staying stuck—of maintaining control over every little thing, even when it’s costing peace of mind.

What Are They Teaching Their Kids?

The thing that makes my blood actually boil (I think this is my mama bear side being so protective over Charlotte) is what is this teaching their kids? Kids pick up on everything. They see us measuring out our meals, and they hear the justification—”I’m just making sure I’m eating enough.” But what they’re learning is to doubt their own ability to know what enough feels like. They’re learning that maybe they, too, should be skeptical of their bodies’ signals.

They say, “I need to weigh to make sure I am eating enough,” and kids hear, “My body can’t be trusted to know what it needs.” They hear, “Numbers are more reliable than my own hunger.” And that is a message that can be hard to unlearn.

What is Enough?

And let’s talk about this idea of enough. Enough is not a number on a food scale or a macro goal in an app. Enough is a feeling. It’s something they learn by actually listening to their hunger and fullness cues—not by following some external rule about how many ounces of protein they need to eat to feel good. Sure, there’s a time and place for nutritional guidance—like, sometimes it’s needed when coming out of restrictive eating or maybe if they’re an athlete—but that’s different than turning a scale into their daily mealtime companion.

Control Doesn’t Equal Freedom

At the end of the day, we can’t claim we’re breaking free from diet culture if we’re still glued to our food scales in the name of making sure we eat “enough.” It’s like we traded in one rule for another. What happened to the days when we just…ate? When we let food be food, instead of a math problem? It’s disordered eating that hides behind a mask of “wellness,” convincing us that if we just weigh and measure, we’ll finally have control. But spoiler: control doesn’t mean freedom.

Trusting Your Body Over the Scale

So, the next time you hear someone say, “I weigh to make sure I’m eating enough,” and that sounds innocent—and maybe you should do that too—maybe ask yourself: who is this really for? Is it for your health? Or is it for a sense of control that never actually feels satisfying? And what might it look like if you trusted yourself instead? Because I promise, your body is far more capable of knowing what “enough” looks like than any food scale ever will be.