IN SHORT
- It started as a dare at a house party, when a friend challenged Kathryn to snort a juice pouch
- It got her thinking about other foods she could snort, which led to years of addiction, blending and inhaling every meal through her nose
- When friends and family – and dates – expressed concern and she sought help, Kathryn learnt the devastating risks
- Here, Kathryn Andrea, 32, shares her story…
Looking across the table, my friend Rodney, 20, gave me a mischievous smile.
It was 2014, I was 20 years old, and we were chatting together at a house party.
“I dare you to snort this juice pouch,” he giggled, waving it in front of me.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I laughed.
Grabbing the pouch, I closed one nostril with my finger and pushed the straw into the other.
As I inhaled, the liquid rushed up my nose.
The sensation was sharp and strange, like diving underwater and getting water up your sinuses.
Within seconds, the pouch was empty.
“Nice work,” Rodney smirked, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore.
A strange thought had taken hold of me: What if humans weren’t meant to eat with their mouths?
The idea lingered for days.
At home one afternoon, I made a banana and strawberry smoothie.
Standing alone in the kitchen, I poured it into a glass and put in a straw.
I might as well try it, I thought.
Moments later, I was leaning over the bench with the straw in my nostril.
The smoothie was thicker than juice, and I could taste it faintly as it slid down my throat. I also noticed I felt fuller quicker.
I was convinced it might even be better for me.
Maybe it was better for my teeth, I reasoned, since the liquid wasn’t touching them.
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Like many women, I had low self-esteem when it came to my body, and was always trying to eat less.
Although I hadn’t been diagnosed with any disorders, my view of myself was skewed.
Over the following weeks, I began replacing more meals with blended smoothies that I inhaled through my nose.
Then I started experimenting.
One day, I cooked an omelette with vegetables, blended it, added milk to thin it, and inhaled it.
About a month later, my habit was becoming routine.
One day my friend, Kiersten, 20, came over for lunch. I made us both salad – hers whole, mine pre-blended in a cup.
As she ate with a fork, I lifted my cup and inhaled.
“Kathryn, what are you doing?” she asked.
“I’ve noticed eating this way helps me control my calorie intake,” I said.
She laughed it off, but to me it already felt normal.
Around a year later, in 2015, I visited my grandparents for dinner.
My mum had passed away when I was just two, so they’d helped raise me alongside my dad.
My grandmother had cooked turkey and potatoes.
While they were in the living room, I quietly blended it and poured it into a glass.
At the table, my grandfather was horrified.
“What are you doing, Kathryn?” he asked. “Why can’t you just eat like a normal person?
But instead of stopping, I doubled down.
By 2020, my habit had spiralled out of control.
Blending my meals wasn’t something I did occasionally anymore – it was the only way I was ingesting food.
I lost around 15kg over the span of a few years.
Physically, I rarely felt pain apart from an itchy nose or scratchy throat.
If I had a cold, I would snort cold medicine to clear my sinuses.
I was inhaling almost everything I consumed – steak, pasta, vegetables – anything that could be blended.
Some friends knew, but I avoided dinners and social events where eating was expected.
When I did try to eat normally, the texture felt overwhelming and mademe anxious.
In 2021, I began talking to a man I met on a dating app.
What’s something about yourself you don’t tell people? he asked one night.
I hesitated, then answered honestly.
I’ve been snorting all my food and drinks, I told him.
He stopped responding soon after.
I felt dejected and stopped dating for a while.
For a long time, I continued slipping away during lunch breaks to drink from a tumbler.
When I told my friend Leon, he was alarmed.
“What if you geta brain infection?” he said, but I brushed it off.
Then, in January 2025, things began to change.
Close friends expressed concern when I told them about my habit.
Around the same time, I started dating someone new named Justin.
He was calm, kind and thoughtful, but I was terrified to tell him the truth.
I had also applied to appear on the TV show My Strange Addiction, deciding that if producers thought my habit was serious enough, maybe I should seek help.
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Justin and I went on dates that didn’t involve food.
Eventually, I knew I couldn’t hide it any longer.
At a cafe, I ordered an iced coffee and showed him.
His expression changed instantly.
“Kathryn, what are you doing?” he said, visibly worried. “This isn’t normal.”
We stopped seeing each other romantically, but his concern stayed with me.
Soon after, I saw a doctor.
I was terrified of being judged, but he was calm and professional.
He told me inhaling food could lead to lung infections, sinus damage, or even brain infections.
“You’re lucky there wasn’t more damage, he said. “You need to stop.”
Seeing diagrams of digestion made me realise how much I had been ignoring reality.
I began seeing a counsellor and slowly trying to eat normally again.
One afternoon, I went through a Taco Bell drive-through and ordered a taco.
Chewing felt strange and uncomfortable, but I kept going. When I got home, I threw my blender in the bin.
Hearing it hit the bottom felt strangely liberating.
I’ve been trying to stop for months now, and therapy is helping me rebuild a normal relationship with food.
I haven’t gone completely cold turkey, and sometimes I still slip up when I feel anxious or stressed.
But I’m treating it like any addiction – one step at a time.
I want others to know that addiction can take many forms, and help is out there.
Sarah Cox is Helpline Manager and clinical psychologist at The Butterfly Foundation, which supports people with eating disorders and body image image issues.
“There could be real and significant risks associated with this behaviour,” Sarah says, “so we would really encourage talking to trusted family or friends and seeking professional help as soon as possible. A GP or mental health professional can be a good place to start – they can help refer someone for a full psychiatric or psychological assessment. The important thing is to identify what’s really driving the behaviour, so that the right support can be provided.
“If someone is concerned that they or a loved one may have an eating disorder, we would encourage them to connect with the Butterfly National Helpline for confidential and free advice, 7 days a week, 8am-midnight (AEST/AEDT).”
Call 1800 ED HOPE (1800 33 4673) or visit www.butterfly.org.au to chat online or email.
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